Sliding down routes never before taken towards the future
in hearses of blackened mourning.
Staring straight ahead, opening my mind to any and all
directions in life.
Never quibbling over any differences in reality, always
retreating into labyrinths of desirable pathways.
Striking down the last particles of yesterday as they
rear their ugly heads in protest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem