Stubborn, uncertainty hanging about, looking for a place
to finish things that have been started in younger days.
Reality having set in, pushing aside imagination at times
because of turmoil and strife.
Twanging emotions and feelings that are being left high
and dry with no reasons to be felt or experienced anymore
in this life.
Expressions no longer relevant for inner pictures have
been hung in yellowed hallways of the past, no longer
important enough to stand and look at.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem