And as I trudge
trudging desperately
through dense fog
In all this thick sludgy mud
and all this debris
I'm surrounded by unsteady trees
swaying above me, as if they are alive
I'm shaded from light
and I'm wondering in complete silence
reflecting on it all
when, when
will it all change from mud into quicksand?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem