Frustrated, being subjected to many particular feelings
all at one time, using poetry to separate and identify
each of them, flowing out into poems eventually.
Slowly finding our way through mazes in this difficult
and ultimate lonely life, walking on paths of destiny,
meeting others along the way.
Gathering friendships, finding aspects of daily life
that we can eventually master through intellect and logic,
nowing very little on how to make life work with and for
us all our days.
Not having a map or directions on how to work any particle
of it's steps without falling and failing, nothing really
mattering after all.
In the end, when dying, nothing really mattering after all
because when we die we leave it all behind us anyway.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem