I began to think of myself as Thoreau in the wood
Isolated by choices, which does not make it any better.
Three days without a voice, a whisper or a scream, to
draw me from the drunken loneliness in which I swam.
Each second became a silent reminder, tick your alone,
tock, not one person thinks enough of you to reach out.
not one person cares to talk, wants you near, or breaks
the unending silence. that slowly haunts dreams, drinks
and days. like shadows haunt the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so simple but with a lot of depth.