Tired I lay down in your bed you
ask to look through these eyes.
Graciously you offer the quilt of
home instantly sleep over comes
all stinging reservations of will.
Waking dreams are uncommon
they leave me a little more tired.
He told me to come back as he
needed to to understand what it
was that he saw carried back in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem