It's past the time I told you I'd be ready for a call,
But I will give myself five minutes.
Five more minutes to be sad and linger on all the things I'm doing wrong.
Four remaining are not enough to cry,
But I'll take three feeling heavy,
Waste the last two to be done—
one being to turn happy and steady.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem