i refused
going with you
tonight
i justify that
a balding man
(or one in his
middle fifties)
would rather
stay in the house
sleep in bed
if made to choose
whether to attend
a friend's birthday
party,
i am a liar
he once said,
and lies are
not that bad,
he says again,
if the main
reason is
to survive,
know what,
the real reason is
that
there is this
narcissism of the
self which
finds pleasure
at home
alone and no
longer begging
for another
hand or
another's mind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem