Whenever a song doesn’t let me breathe
There’s
A punishment of time burning in my body
The fingers looking for a word
Among the cobwebs of empty rooms
I’ll scream from my window
What’s going on
Just what’s going on
There’s death in the neighbourhood
Moving the strength of life
They carry counterpanes and pillows
A big tiding up of their own thoughs
To the graveyard they carry
To bury themselves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem