I haven’t written
One beautiful thing
For days,
And apart from all the company
I’m without,
Because this,
I am more lonely then I have ever felt.
Goodnight
Those who wernt’ here,
Who didn’t answer their phones,
Who didn’t want to hear,
These quiet words that rest easy
Knowing their alone,
surviving with the struggle,
The silence,
The shadow,
The dark sleep that crowds dreams.
The Night,
How it swallows the tyranny of sorrow
If you drink with it,
If you cheers to it
Alone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem