In the evening I come home
straighten the bed
clear away all the wine from before
and put the radio on
the walls are white
with an old wooden cupboard
standing in the corner
as i lie on the bed
the pipes on the wall drip
and the radiator is too hot
but the switch is broken
so i cannot turn it down
mostly i leave the window open
to get some air
i look at my books
Bukowski... Orwell
but i've read them so many times
and they just make me sad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hi there Paul: Like this one. Sounds like me! But my books would be Asimov or Dick Francis and I read them over because I enjoy them so much. And, O, the room is a trailer and it is, yes, cheap, paid for and allows me to spend my finances on things I really want to do like missionary work in Guyana. Adeline