Sometimes the environment comes first,
Where you'r placed, put, the domicile you inhabit
By choice or necessity, neighbours, staff, colleagues
They make for well-being, to examine your soul too much
Is an escape from truthful contemplation
Too much wrath and poison goes into it
And your balance is lost in the process of re-integration.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem