An aging man sleeps a damn long time
But when he was a child you couldn't keep him quiet
Always crying and yelping as if eager for angst
And now wrinkly he prepares for sleep with death silence
His memories in the fourth dimension
He couldn't fathom a title or caption
They're all hangin on his walls
And looking at him through his windows
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem