a poem by Krzeslawa T. Skrzypczynska, Poland - poetry writer, author, poet

lazy of the sunshine I froze
I look at passing,worried masks
of some people,
gray ones, not meaningful

they struggle and I don't know anything about it
I don't care at all
I put on dark glasses
they are like bugs in them

I look lazily, I look into space
and I don't want even to dream
have I ever been a fakir
that I'm lying on this board?

the plank pierces I think, my thoughts,
but I'm laying, still weak
maybe I'm oversensitive
maybe too old I am?

now I mention balls with nostalgia
(I burn in the sun)
babies were so energetic
and then - a white hall

lazy of the sunshine I'll get up
and I look into the mirror of water
but I won't overwork myself up, at all
(I'm too young for that)

I won't crush even an intrusive fly
and I won't break her, anything
apparently, out a job, I will be poor boy,
it's fine, I'll devour a raspberry bush

nothing else remaining is left for me
as to sleep and dream about it as
to receive the treasures of the world
as so for nothing, without the job

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