Abiding advice rested on my soul,
This afternoon there was an advert
For the future of my eerie existence,
One that was an airport of alarm.
This cobwebbed life had connections,
To the tasted restaurants and bars
Achievable in life, for there was not
A wreck in sight, no wobbling on the path.
I weep and wrestle and wish for the opposite
To occur, in trances my experience begins;
Wet pools stare at my stored eyes, these jewels
That steer and start like the steps of diamonds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem