at this time
i pause
wanting to
find an answer
to the question
which slips at
the tip of my
tongue
i find the answer
takes time
but then
on the other hand
i finally dismiss it
unnecessary
always this happens
well sought
well thought of
but at the end
so irrelevant
sick and dirty
fake and temporary
pleasure of
these hands
the heart furious
the mind
wasted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem