With wonders in my head of yesterday, tomorrow and what shall be I can not go to bed. Why should this happen to me? Why should all these thoughts whirl within me? How do I let them be and become without me being attentively? I know what I want I know what has been and what is.. just is. Yet I still have this whirl mushing in me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
great, you have to read hall of obscurity