Forlorn, aging, wandering around, trying to attain some
of the activity of the past in new surroundings.
Pretending to be busy, finding things to do while feeling lonely and trying to fill the void left by maturity.
Sensing reason and logic at edges of particular
rendezvous, not really willing to participate, because
reality sets in and riles feelings of peace with lonely thoughts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem