I escape again into a poem
I hide here
I forget the practical duties and questions
I forget the meaninglessness of it all
I escape into a poem
And in the small dream of writing
I am whole and at peace-
And without a question
Except for the poem itself-
Here I am again running away today
While the days themselves are running out -
Until the day comes
When nothing more need be done
And no poetry needed either.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
refreshingly original.. and quite different approach..