My days,
Dead nights' interludes.
My sight,
Subtracted from dream.
My sigh,
Translated from scream.
My ways,
interruptions of the street.
My walks,
illusions of the feet.
My words,
Sun-dried in sloth.
My world,
on all sides crumpled.
My retreat,
masterful as ever!
My name,
absent in history.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem