...And then we behave like
beggars in need of affection
if you see us dressed on our
Sunday's best
waiting along the busy road
for someone who
never arrives
you would have known what
pity is all about
we eat time, we squander it
like a prodigal son,
we do not mind what is left
loneliness too is tiresome
expensive and senseless
you know what i mean
look at you, you are fully dressed
'but you are not going anywhere'
you are waiting
for no one
there is one who arrives here
but what a pity
she is not also looking for
anybody.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem