Vivid memories -
like photographs collected in the album of my mind.
I flick through them as I toss and turn,
restlessly trying to sleep.
Obsessively I run through the events of the day,
but, however many times I review them,
nothing changes.
Tomorrow I will spend my day with sheep -
at night I will count the memories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem