sometimes i have vacant days
days without content
days removed from their usual implantation
these are the lazy but happy days
days without poems, without a word even
days that i do not syllabicate
because i claim to be happy
on a day without
thinking
too much of it chokes me
and they say those who see me thinning out like air
that i am punishing myself
and it will be unfair to my
being
so i embrace vacant days
days like windows
vase without water and flowers
trees without leaves
twigs without buds
a door emptied of its dog
floors without shoes
books on their closed positions
rooms without people
streets without horses or cars
oh i love these days, when i am nothing at all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem