I cried
Until my eyes
Dried,
Then waited
For the rain
To supplement them.
I spoke
Until my throat
Broke,
Then stated
That the pain
Was incidental.
I slept
Until my rest
Kept,
And muttered
In my dreams
To all who’d listen,
Then rose
Until my old
Prose
Was uttered
To extremes
Of repetition.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem