Still caught in the meshes of surviving
The riving phantoms scratch at the base of what I've become.
The strains and stretches of the stress marks
Lead to a place I call nowhere, cos that's
Where I reside, totally in the dark of an unlit room,
The vibrant hemisphere absent from my murmourings
As this, my elegy for a solitary, indites.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem