Inside all day
I almost do not mind
But the sun and the flowers
Outside my window wonder
Why I am not with them-
Small tasks long ignored
Are given more time-
The dream of my youth is given me
I have all the time in the world to write
But I do not have the idea the energy the desire to write
I once had-
Where I wonder is life as I once knew it?
Desolation and silence in so many closed down places
This is not yet the end of the world
But it seems to be on the way to it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem