The old man sings the blues
Early morning the day had died
a wall of grey nothingness death without grief.
The night had been dreamless
had there been any nightor had been erased,
life and death have merged this the end
of what I will see.
Is my bed a coffin I have been let out of?
So I could see what the world was like when
it was colourless, an insipid oblivion, this
apart we see in hues is an illusionto spare
us the reality the world does not exists
we are dreams within the imagined
and life is an invention.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Philosophical musings with some of the most wonderful expressions about life or thereabouts. Thank you, Oskar. I quote: Early morning the day had died Is my bed a coffin I have been let out of?