All I hear is your voice:
'Remember this, remember that...
what about this, what about that? '
and you drone on and on and on:
'Always a foot soldier, never a commander.'
'He never came to see you, did he? '
blah, blah, blah...
But perhaps you have a point here
'Why didn't you come to see me, daddy? '
Sometimes you say nothing—
silence, your cruellest ploy.
One look and I'm undone,
you torment me and you taunt me.
All the thoughts I tried so hard to banish—
all my fears and all my insecurities.
'Couldn't you have loved me just a little? '
and I cry for the child that was only seven.
When I say this is old news
—I pretend of course—you laugh.
How do you know me so well
am I you, are you me?
Be careful old friend, neither
of us may be here much longer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem