he promised himself that at the first second
when he wakes up this morning
he's gonna go directly to the door
get his sneakers and face towel
and take a walk while it is still cold
and dark
but look, here he is again
like a robot, opens his PC,
stares at the monitor, goes to PH
and then starts his
obsessive-compulsive
poetry.
hmm, it maybe a mess that calls for
psychiatry
but on the other hand
the feeling is elevating
now on the ninth cloud he takes a walk
in his fields of
imagination - on the path
of nirvana.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem