INSIDE the car
on a night like this
when you go back home alone,
you turn off
the music,
to listen to the
sound of the engine
and the
air-conditioning
you feel the way
how the gentleness of silence
is being
covered by a layer of
the noise that
technology has made
without which
the innermost longing that was never
satisfied
screams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem