when you wake up
in the morning
the night before when
you were drunk
you open same window
beside your bed
you watch the same
clock and you reset it
at the same time
the air outside is cold
and the drapes begin to
dance to the nuances of
what is sad and daily
same thing over and over
again
upon enumerated acts and
things
this is living and there
is nothing new
this is pure routine and
stability.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem