I awoke, dying of old age;
bigger bags under my eyes,
a bit more hair missing,
a weary body
little hope....
I trudged outside to
journey to a place
of adolescent torture
youth inflicting its grip
on my life....
I saw flowers, a jar,
a sign, a note -
I became sixteen
I rejoiced
little did I know....
13 November 1990
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem