I am not enamoured by fragrant promises.
I deride all the hackneyed comments about hope.
I've no time, these days, for nebulous illusions.
The vivid drugs of contemporary media
Fuel such baseless visions, dreams and demands.
I'm more inclined to the stubborn and the bizarre:
In reality's stark irregularities:
In darkness that dwells behind artificial light.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem