I am already slipping out of my control;
Already tranced; already dreaming;
And haven't even gotten into bed
And pulled the winter snow around the caverns of my head.
It will catch up to me.
I am already giving precedence to the new ideal.
To hell with the environment:
I am envisioning a new and better Real.
A hundred trivialities rush in at me,
The petty doubts and worries beady minds are prey to.
But I am out of tolerance for these.
My life was dead; my people buried me.
I've found a hole to get me out.
I'll come back for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem