Do you look at the ceiling in bed at night
and wish it away so you can sight
the stars in the sky and a golden moon
and realize that you're not in tune
with nature's scene
on a lonely, lonely night?
I have done this thing over and again.
I have also compromised the fact that when
my ceiling prevents this scene to occur
I sadly remain a prisoner
away from nature's scene
on a lonely, lonely night.
I have stopped looking at my ceiling at night.
I have closed my eyelids, closed them tight.
Why look at something that cannot be?
Do I want disappointment ‘cause I can't see
nature's scene
on a lonely, lonely night?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem