After struggling for a never-ending period
of time with boring texts and finding even
beautiful words lost their charm because I
cannot be allowed to enjoy fun of reading
bewitching tales until I have completed my
allotted tasks and I can’t, my eyes cannot
focus, I can’t tell you what those grey and
black lines are supposed to say
I ran off to the library, happy in the high-step-
ping pace of the imaginary drum-majorette in
my mind, borrowed books by Helen Creswell,
Susan Cooper, Annie Dalton, Thomas Disch
and Felicity Finn; alternative universes under
my arm, marching with the illustrated keys to
magical realms in my hands in order to leave
the limited mind behind and
Share the experience of fictitious characters
carefully recorded, polished and published for
seekers like me who need to see other worlds
beyond the limited sensory one where feelings
are invisible and hidden and I make up my own
as I go…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem