I felt like Gregor Samsa,
One early-lazy Sunday morning
- Checked to see
If my limbs were still there,
Each in its place
Ordained to be so.
Muffled thoughts birth out
With difficulty
Into the dense atmosphere.
Stifled breath
Made possible only by
A somewhat omnipotent air-conditioner.
Mon Seigneur, je te dis ‘merci! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem