No use reading positive books if I cannot
survive your grumbling complaints about
wonderful events – like visits from family
and friends I see as privileges which are
infringements of your privacy
No escaping suffocation today, you fell
victim to symptomatic fears about the
future while my mind stuck on Station
Worry; a surprise visit depressed, tomorrow
will bring more of the same –
Your unhappiness stifles my anxious
attempts to be sanguine, hopeful and glad,
the world threatens, full of monsters and
hateful events – it should be a fairytale,
even books fail to provide sanctuary
Can’t sleep or fit soft mattress curves,
torture is the floor, nerves charging my
body like high-tension wire: Spiritualists
say I can rise above this but I have a long
way to go before I can age gracefully
I guard my hope, trust and visions of future
and past jealously, even the fraudulent – as
long as composition harmony is supreme…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem