on a long holiday like these
days i am swarmed by bees of
thoughts and in my head they form
a colony of memories
i am taken in as a prisoner
of the past but as usual i
am the most willing victim of
these nostalgic moments
faces meet me
luscious lips in red
strawberry flavors pout at me
and telling me
how much have i wasted time
on nothing.
what i have is a mirage and
what i tread upon is a desert
dry and so barren.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem