My bed where i used to rest
Doesn't provides the comfort i desire.
My pillow,
So hard like tarkwaian rock.
The sofas didn't come to mind.
Cuz they are also from hard beech.
My thoughts,
My actions.
My comfort zone,
Now a zone of dismay.
Same people, same language.
Yet am restless.
No condition seems permanent.
The other side of the coin
has been revealed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem