i still cannot figure
the exact details
there is an area of
privacy here which i
must respect
there is so much pain
to both of them
and i cannot give you
this and that
i accept i cannot write
this and that
i must fail on this
what do you need pain for?
they float on the ceiling
like balloons
fists land on their chests
like baboons
here we are my friends
drinking our bottles of beers
savoring these medium rares
and simply talking about
other people's sad affairs
i say we are lucky
not being like them
all splitting like atoms
for a nuclear fission
boom! that is the sound of
another bad news
about love broken into pieces
about marriage creating splinters
here we are drinking for good
saying: if we cannot be happy too
at least, tonight we are all drunk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem