There was i; there was i in the rain and the rain did not overflow me, there i was languished and anguish served as morning mass and tea. There was i; there was i in disdain and the feeling is true and holy, there where i perish and cherished nothing but promises hanging like baits. There, there when all else despised me and imagination was my heroe, and there i was the man in the hands of every nonchalant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem