Dark Feelings - Poem by Ndrek Gjini
Into the bog of bad habits,
I am swimming every day.
Mosquitoes, marsh plants and mud,
are pestering me, from my feet to my eyes.
From here, I can see only some slaves
building a statue for the devil.
An old bull-cart filled up
with all my broken years
stands on the shore of this bog
waiting for me to pull it.
Sleepwalking, I leave the bog,
and towards the bull-cart I go.
Pulling it through the mire
alongside of this bog land
its wheels begin to write
some very boring stories
on the mud’s umber paper.
While the night falls
the voices of frogs begin to be
the only cradle-song of my hopes.
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