all the sad and lonely people
they are all here
gathered,
all the sad and lonely people
they are all here
and i listen, listen all too well
and i ask myself, from where do all these lonely people come from?
and i ask some of them, from where do you come from?
all the lonely and sad people do not answer
they are well dressed, and square and straight and prim and proper
their lips are sealed and their gazes are deep
all the lonely and sad people with their wits on, their wisdom kept
in the silence of their boxes
that thorax, that ax on their backs
no blood at all, no sound, nothing so bad to see
from all these sad and lonely people
who have gathered here
knowing perhaps that we all look the same,
and behave in the same manner
of the wall clock and the stairs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem