Waking up is always difficult.
It means leaving the
Comfort of the dark
Blanket.
The blanket so completely
Dark that it shows all the
Colours it has absorbed
Like a Newtonian colour wheel
Moving in reverse.
But waking up is necessary
For the blanket is not
Big enough to stretch
Over your days.
Sometimes,
A tangled end tears away
And clings to you
As you go about your chores.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem