The glass you have in your hand
Overflowing juice
On the white mantel
You laugh at me
I am filled with envy
And then you notice
The mess
Of this overflowing madness
You want to make things
Clean again
You take the excess
And throw them away
You rub it with rags
The stains are there and
You regret
These matters of
What you do not need
I wait
And inside me I too laugh
You could have given things away
Throw them all
If you only ask me
That was what I did when I was young
And too hardheaded
I’ve known what overflowing madness is
Once, twice, thrice
Almost I was destroyed
And I did the throwing before it was dark
And it was not too late
And I had no regrets
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem