Voices, refined, modulated
talking, talking, explaining
repeating refrains, on and
on and on – reverberating
in my head
I cannot find the silence in
my mind, reading about the
environment and sustainable
development, the voice keeps
talking
Even rhythm, without passion
in expression, without imparting
anything of interest, monotonously
enunciating phrases - this is
prison indeed
A prisoner of circumstance am I
caught within a space of cultivated
voices droning on, I can flee a while
but I must return, the insomnia
of last night
Has worn my patience thin, nowhere’s
safe when fatigue takes me prisoner –
then thrown into the genteel company
of talking voices that
I can’t escape
Sitting quietly in a hidey hole, a
moment of respite, but I must
return...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem