You said: "I'll go to another country, go to another shore,
find another city better than this one.
Whatever I try to do is fated to turn out wrong
and my heart lies buried like something dead.
How long can I let my mind moulder in this place?
Wherever I turn, wherever I look,
I see the black ruins of my life, here,w
where I've spent so many years, wasted them, destroyed them totally."
- You won't find a new country, won't find another shore.
- This city will always pursue you.
- You'll walk the same streets, grow old
- in the same neighborhoods, turn gray in these same houses.
- You'll always end up in this city. Don't hope for things elsewhere:
- there's no ship for you, there's no road.
- Now that you've wasted your life here, in this small corner,
- you've destroyed it everywhere in the world.



This poem matched my mood exactly. Thank you for posting it.
Posted by: Jemima | 03 February 2008 at 12:34 PM
Jemima,
The poets who make a lasting impact are those who express something which resides in us as well.
Posted by: Stavros | 03 February 2008 at 08:23 PM