Hoping for a miracle
that I don't believe in
an extension, being able
to do what ordinary people do
on ordinary days, eat
and not be sad
Getting stronger, restoring
myself, no longer needing
the names of my diseases
Only my nose is healthy
puts me in my own stink
smells where it's going
Pigeons coo more plaintively
cawing jackdaws scratch in me
Missy turns around me
The city is full of life
rushing past the ruins
which still know who they were
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem