Where do I go now?
I see no roads diverged
In a yellow wood.
My senses are dulled
Incapacitated
Sick to the stomach
Feverish with desperation.
Who will take my hand?
Where is my guiding star?
My Bethlehem?
Many questions
And so few answers
Such is my existence to be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem