NOTHING IS DONE / THE MORNING GOES PAST
Nothing is done
The morning goes past
The world is grey and dark
There is not enough light.
I write now
Weakly and desperately
Trying to stay alive.
Far away somewhere else
I can be what I was
But now I am old and small and diminishing
And nothing I write makes me less afraid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem