Folding within, going numb, living on edges of the fabric
of life, nowhere to go if letting go of it.
Only falling into depths of an interior misery, encapsula-
ted in a mire of sorrow, indefinitely tied within.
No way out, stepping in time, measures of rhythms traipsing
along, walking away from me, leaving everything in shadows.
Never again taking up the flight of an interior solace,
wanting only to take it by the hand, requiring the substance
of a peculiar situation to be taken up by another course of
action hidden below sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem