I read a joyous song about my many sorry days
And I notice that light beyond it is actually quite eerie.
Its words are resonating to the dying of my heart
Perhaps such a coincidence is just, or is it really?
Suddenly, the placards of the 'mindless' drones arise
And the priceless record reader breaks into a shameful child.
With all lights out, I realize my own triumphant fail,
That none is just nor even real when my C-complex is wild.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem