The war for attention
Has greater and greater competition
We need the love of someone purchasing
What we create
But I in the silence of writing on and on
Am as obscure as dust
Hidden in the shade of my own apparent mediocrity
No one except one will probably read this
And he is the one who wrote it
A loser in the great game of ongoing longing
For vicarious love
That is probably not the answer -anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem