Here it is – my book of poetry
With all its sadness and joy
With all my confessions
So tender and so cruel
Its second edition would never be released
It would be laughed at and misunderstood
It would be thrown into attics or basements
It would be torn and destroyed
But what does it matter?
I am asking myself, writing the final verse
What does it matter?
With a sudden intensity,
As if I saw it clear for a moment,
I wrote the last word and it was done! Finished!
Yes, I though, experiencing
Extreme fatigue and extreme satisfaction-
I have had my ?wn vision!