to save yourself you have learned to lie.
your wife does not want you to live
perhaps she hates you
this i think i should know, because on
every lie you make,
she is there to correct it and claims
that it is not so, that this is it,
what lies you make, she is there always
ready to correct, perhaps, she does not love you that much
she loves herself more, and that is the truth
(you are jobless, and old,
and ugly, and coping,
you are drunk, and sick,
you are broke, and lonely,
you are sinful and foul
that is the truth, now,
can you manage all these?)
i must make you understand.
i can tolerate your lies, and i do not want you to just die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem