oh it is just
a diversion, a hobby,
something done and which
could simply be set aside
after,
just like eating a banana
and throwing half of it
to the sea from a boat
where you are
contemplating of the
place that you are going,
what do i do there? what
for? this trip is not that
important as i leave
other life-death
situations,
the sea is stormy
and the boat is shaking
and those who
are certain about where
to go
are here in their vomiting
moments.
one jumps over the boat
and kills himself
allegedly to forget
and be gone,
which is another sad
story that comes into
your life and then
dissolves itself into
forgetting
if you hear about it
you did not listen much
about the other details
just a normal occurrence
in these harsh times,
and you have your own life
to live, your own
story to write,
your own, your own
self,
and it is still ongoing
without a plan for
a happy ending, or
just an ending perhaps,
just to finish it
and find another
plot, an extremely
complicated one
and must not baffle
a baffled mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem