Divine grace,
I cannot remember your face.
Good to heal,
I'd hate to feel.
Hate to be alive and know
The torture of sitting by a window
Enveloped in a mist,
Believing that you do exist.
Grateful for amnesia,
The spirit's anesthesia.
Put an end to wonder -
That mortal blunder.
Mental picture fades.
I hadn't breathed in three whole days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem