and so he gave money
to the owner of happiness
which also
by years of poverty has
learned to trade it
to those who badly needs
it inorder to survive
and so he paid
gave the money and got a hand
and then the whole body
and then a memory
happiness understands
what is necessary
it too understands what
is surplusage
much more about waste
deep in his heart
there is nothing and he knows
this and so he went there
again
to ask from more which is
also hurriedly given
nights and nights and more
nights of seeking pleasure
and presumably also having taken
it with all ease
and
secrecy, but in the silence of
dawn
he can hear his heart sobbing
which he tries evading
always telling him, that it is
wrong, that it is a very horrible wrong
to seek happiness using money
but he said, i am tired of love
which hurts
i am only asking for the shallow part
of it where i do not have to swim anymore
tonight the stars are coming out again
trying to draw a story in the sky and he
will be there watching them all
in contempt and disbelief
the years had been rough and the stars
have never told him
the best story ever
not yet, perhaps.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem