I am insane, very ill, I love,
Mad, too pathetic and depressed.
With bowed head, in poems greetings send,
And the gray despair crushed.
I don't want to just live without fuss,
And I don't care about these feeble lines.
They were written just for beauty,
No one will read them in my sad obituary.
No one will ever remember me,
I can't live like this without someone remembering.
I know how to be funny, a couple of fate cursing,
Laugh at nothing, but I'm not a righteous pilgrim.
Grasping for a dream once again,
Looking all around, and noticing only the wasteland.
Love is created just like that, not for pranks,
And only madmen are not afraid, and change this world.