Fatalistically nurturing thoughts of creative suicide
on lonely days of grief, I prepare also, for my future
deathbed of respite.
Searching for reasons, solutions creatively being
entered in books as life takes it's journey across
plains of desert sand dunes with prickly cacti standing
in the way.
Following my heart against all odds, withstanding
pressures of daily routines and strife, I somehow
survive this earthly life, whether wanting to or not.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem