now
when the day is gone
we chase it no more
like those days of yore!
the days flash like game
cards on our faces
then the magician keeps
them all in his hand
all days are gone
the night has come
and we can do nothing but sleep
or wake up
thinking about nothing
what comes next
simply is unthought of
the nights and days are the same now
nothing is distinctive
in this waiting game of life...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem