The vacuous states which stalk
Epiphanic moments
Linger like etherised time
The mind is either poisoned
By over indulgence
Or nibbled at by doubt
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a powerful peice Leonard penned with knowing words and good knowledge for the subject, to be honest when i saw the title i half expected this poem to be more in the style of a confessional poem, full of self loathing and self pity which is the type often penned by the younger, more emotional of poets on this site (not that i have a problem with such works, i think its a good starting point and we must all start somewhere) However your work, was a pleasent suprise, and summed a side of manic deppression very well. best wishes Robin