Haunting, this sense just clings
Daunting every nonsense it brings,
Fights me still, this
Question is amiss,
Was I born today?
Or borne when Time ticked away?
18 years have passed
With only ignorances amassed,
A recluse with clues
And nothing to lose,
I am still, hiding in my cove,
Rodion Romanovich Raskolnikov.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem