Why Letting Go Is Hard
.
I said...
what else is there for us, self?
We've seen the war
We've been broke
We've seen the needy
We sat atop a warm stone
.
What else is there for us, self?
.
We've emptied the coffer to have
We salute after 50 year old champagne's pop
.
We dressed, but never like monks
We dance, but never like the lamprey
.
So self that's how life
sweeps our feet away
sometimes,
.
How one decides, is something
I'd like to know
.
What else is there for us, self?
.
Sex starts at five o'clock
because it's forbidden to eat after six
.
Life must rest every after
a raspy thought chagrin its dignity
.
Life must rest, I said to myself, one day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem