Why, why
you don't buttons up us
in the buttonholes
of the mirror
anymore
why?
buttons
are asking me
and now more often
more often complain
that they can no longer
to charry
my day
on their back
that even in the night
they can not
can not rest
from the sleepwalker
that more often
returns
more and more later
with the sun in his eyes
and that less
more and more less
means to them
who is button up them
and who is unbutton them
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem