at 18
attraction is a magnet
nails and
shreds of iron fillings
all absorbed
at 25
something changes
because of
the seeping pains
i doubt and i begin
to know
that i am
at 35
one wavers about
what to attract
and when to be
attracted
selective they say
there exists
now this discriminating taste
at 45
everything happens like a
bad dream
who will ever know
that this is what i am
really
i don't even know
anymore
at 55
attraction gets boring
i don't pay attention to
what gives pleasure
or pain
they are all the same
waste of time
and breaks my heart
and weakens
my soul
at 65
i want to rest my case
with all
peace there is.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem