L'Etranger
The failing wit
the emptiness and ennui--
who created it?
The sagging
of feeling
love's withering
who or what to blame
does that something
bear a name?
you walk past people
no faces you see
life is a strange country
your past
tells no real story
you're your own mystery
and this I know
you'll never be free
dead your heart is already
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem