because i cannot
sleep
does not mean
that i think of
you
there is more about me
and it goes beyond
you
or even us
it is the nausea of
selfishness
that makes my eyes
open
till dawn
the nausea of
an existence that is folded
many times
until such time
that there is no possibility to
find
where the centerfold
is
until such time that
what you face is an eternal wall
as you grope
for an infinite edge
there are no more reasons
and the waking
continues
on and on and on
and on
on and one and on and on
no numbers
no images
no measure
no beat
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well done enjoyed it as usual