I never feel THIS itchy,
anxious and aggravated.
I sit still every night.
The sunshine is never too cold;
never too long has the moon estivated.
So I don't find my way
through incessant tides of pity.
I'm of a stable, ripe species,
with no reason to hate this city.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem