I never learnt to concentrate, never learnt to do research
without the aid of adrenaline and emotions involved, like
an autistic child - faced with a boring job, my mind
becomes useless
Enjoyed my studies by experiencing each text existentially,
the excitement of living every idea and theory, now that the
bureau sent me texts to edit, my brain short-circuits and
refuses to work
My life is a waste, I wanted to jump right to the end
of meaningless life, to bypass the useless events as
described by Ecclesiastes, but time did not pass,
I’m forced to
To repeat endless cycles endlessly - I wanted to play
a significant role, make a difference; now I’m depressed,
even when I try my best, the result is mediocrity, always
choosing wrong
Losing interest long before reaching the end – it wouldn’t
matter if I had no dream of excellence, but I did; today I’ve
got to admit I can’t reach my ideal, I’m a failure in all jobs
I undertake
I have betrayed myself and my own dreams, can’t offer
Rudi anything at all…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lyrical 'monologue' psychological accent … a fragment from «poetic scenes» 10