Where is my happiness? Is it a dream or just a word
That’s meant to let mere humans realize that life is great?
Or is it just a nonsense, used to tease and bait
Those poor inhabitants like me whose life is incomplete,
Whose deadly boredom leads to early grave,
Who cannot rest, who cannot quietly seat?
There are no ordinary folks to catch my meaning,
Admittedly, there’s only me against myself.
It’s time to dust this old bookshelf, -
To get what I desire, to understand what I am feeling,
And never seek for happiness in my puerile head.
Unattainable or not?
© Copyright: Виталий Озолиньш, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113021706906
Свидетельство о публикации №113021706906
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