Conclusion escapes me
slinking away like someone who witnessed
a Mafia murder
and ending up nowhere:
the mined no-man's-land of ideas
where lights swallow the moon
like Viagra.
My shadow: a one-dimensional
even-more-substanceless me
a peninsula
not of regret
but of grief.
Freedom is meaningless
when you're dead
because you are freer
than freedom.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem