How well I remember as I’m slumped in my chair:
Be’reft of movement, bereft of hair.
My bodily odors might foul the air
I’m sorry, you see I’m not offered care.
My existence seems pointless as day after day
Droplet by droplet my life seeps way.
But deep in this husk, all that you see,
Is a heart full of love and feet that ran free.
Once, as a boy, I ran through the fields
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem