The poems are not being written
A silence in the soul
I will try in these few lines
To come back to myself
But who am I to come back to?
An ever-changing process of dreams and mistakes?
A fool on a one- way mission to oblivion?
An old man repeating his lonely song to a longer silence?
The possible definitions do not end
I am here now feeling I know who I am
And what I have been
And knowing too
My own possible delusion
But I have written some lines now
And I am back to something of that writing self
I was
And perhaps for now
I have perhaps written a poem
Which at least satisfies me
That is something like poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely. How did you know i was feeling like that? I am feeling like that.