These metal doors feel like handcuffs
This golden knob feels like a cell
We're traveling through endless corridors
with the halls having nothing to tell
This car engine sounds like a microphone
These tires sound like the mall
Running away with no destination,
showing up unannounced with no call
This house smells like a chimney
This bed feels nothing like a friend
We sink inside until we collapse,
not expecting to, in turn, meet our dear end
This lamp I lit seems too bright
I can see everything manifested in the night
There are cracks in our skin, bruises on our bones,
But we never used to mind being as plain as stones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem reminds me of old world England. I can see peasents gathering socially in their chambers of a castle. This could be a very good story! !