A bottle in the hand,
He would walk down the street,
The world,
A blurred dream.
But yet,
He reveled in this world,
This atmosphere of nonsensical drama,
A place,
A home,
To escape the problems,
That awaited him in reality.
Some may say,
A life wasted,
Drowned in alcohol,
He would say,
A bliss to the mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem