Dear philosophers, I get sad when I think.
Is it the same with you?
Just as I'm about to sink my teeth into the noumenon,
Some old girlfriend comes to distract me.
»She's not even alive!« I yell to heaven.
The wintry light made me go out of my way.
I saw beds covered with identical gray blankets.
I saw grim-looking men holding a naked woman
While they hosed her with cold water.
Was that to calm her nerves, or was it punishment?
I went to visit my friend Bob who said to me:
»We reach the real by overcoming the seduction
I was overjoyed, until I realized
Such abstinence will never be possible for me.
I caught myself looking out the window.
Bob's father was taking their dog for a walk.
He moved with pain; the dog waited for him.
There was no one else in the park,
Only bare trees with an infinity of tragic shapes
To make thinking difficult.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem