to wear the dark
turn round
eyes open.
round your neck
the dark
sauntering.
time chimes
and you feel
frustration instead of joy.
I go up
nerves take the
throne
then I return again
go up again
midnight, one, two, three
I pace frustratingly
then suddenly
the Tired the Sleepless wins
unseen
the nervousness slips
and I fall listlessly
in the first dream.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
suddenly the Tired the Sleepless wins unseen the nervousness slips falling into sleepless nights. listless, dreams.. a very fine poem dear poet. tony