he enters a door
the frames are eaten by termites
he goes inside
where the chairs have only three feet
the sofa is like a stomach with intestines getting out
the roof leaks
there are stains of dried liquid on its corners
blood of a woman
the ceiling is like some rotten leaves
without stalkers
the floor is rough like a rocky shore
mud plated on some surfaces
he looks at the pile of papers
people are always quarreling
and there are endless litigations here
no one wants to shrink a little
and give way to something
perhaps bigger
the setting itself is unjust
the aircon is cracking like some hot oil
where water sprinkles itself unnecessarily
or inadvertently
i do not like to be here
but here i am
learning to live with injustice
dirt and rotten system
turning into humus
on the other hand, there must be a time for change
a fertile ground
after so much leaking and wetting and
rotting
worms eating themselves
bats evacuating
leaving feces on the floors
airy space, silent halls, and children giggling
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem