I write and write
What else is there for me but writing?
But writing will not save me
It will not make me young again
It will not erase the mistakes I have made
It will not give me the love and happiness I want
I write and write
What else is there for me but writing?
I write and write
And my life goes by as if it itself does not understand
Why the time has almost run out
And I have not done
And I will never do
Even in writing
What I hoped to do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good! particularly our writings stand against us in certain situation, when we unconsciously trespass the boundaries we have created! ! Keep on writing if it makes you happy! !