It begins with flashes, sharp, electric,
Sleep won't come, but wakefulness abides,
Nightmare lies that way, but welcoming,
Great, wracking sobs tear at every muscle,
And then...it hides behind the eyes;
For a spell a pleasant thrumming comes,
Brings a certain hued warmth to the gray,
A levelling out of the despair plane,
Not joy, not happiness, not a cure,
But an evening out, but it won't stay;
It ends with flashes, sharp, electric,
Sleep won't come,
Nightmare reigns,
Tears won't cease,
And then...it hides behind my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem