I Would Like To Write Of Joy,
Of Serenity, Of Peace
But What I Have In My Heart
Is Only Disappointment And Sadness.
Everything Of Which I Know
How To Speak Now Is Loneliness…
What I Know Is Only Loneliness,
Only Of This I Have Suffered
And Also Perhaps I Have Looked For.
My Only Way Of Escape Is Writing-Â…
The Only Universe In Which
I Cannot Be Judged,
In Which I Do Not To Have
To Be Totally Sincere…
Sincere As I Won’t Perhaps Never Be
Because I Am Ashamed Of What I Am,
I Am Ashamed For Not To Be Able
To Fight For What I Believe In,
I Am Ashamed Of My Weakness…