In the theatre of the absurd,
Felt I,
Life is absurd,
We are here for nothing,
Living uselessly,
Just passing time.
We do not know why are we here,
Who are we,
What the purpose of ours,
Who are we waiting for,
Without emotion and feeling,
With the exhausted and exasperated stamina?
In the theatre of the absurd,
Felt I,
Life is absurd,
Man an absurd player
Enacting on the stage the play
Of the absurd.
Life is nothing, the stage set for absurd players,
All, the dramatic personae
And protagonists,
Mouthpieces and spokesmen,
The absurd characters,
Dull, dreary and motionless,
Sadistic and pessimistic,
Looking forlorn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the other side of the fence people are happy, because they know the purpose of their existence, the duties they have to do for others and themselves.. Once in a while I feel the same as you have written here..Cheer up...