I bought a rope, and a lighter,
My sorrows have acquired life jackets, and boats
They, too, have insolent grins on their faces
My demons have learned a new language
And forgot the one we used to converse in
It's colder and darker inside, lonesome and weary
Nights are long drawn
Mosquitoes have become menacing
Communing with me into the wee hours of the night
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Judy Blatherwick eveything is fake