Two thirty,
even the dawn chorus dreams,
and I restless awake.
Usual things;
the relentless lack of money,
getting older,
being chased without trousers.
You arriving while I am vulnerable,
taking what is most needed
and now I'm awake.
Satisfied?
Don't get me wrong,
I've slept the sleep of an innocent man
on more than one occasion.
But now and then,
we meet at two thirty,
my fears and I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
and sometimes at 3: 30, 4: 30....