When? …

When will that particular morning come
That I realize, I’m not a reason for the rising Sun?
I wonder, when will the shadows on the corner of the wall
Turn into actual nightmares by nightfall?

When will it come, that I can’t see the other side
And will there be a hand who helps me cross the street as my guide?
I wonder, when it will come, that I can no longer write,
And just cry all day over an empty paper of white.

And when will it come, that I can’t recognize anyone anymore,
Only sometimes hearing the inspirational “Don’t give up!” implored.
I wonder when it will be, that there are no more colors to see,
Only exhausted, condemned, broken hearts in steed.

I wonder when my companion will be just a white cane,
With which I alone, roam the world in shame.
And when will it be, that I cannot see you any longer
When only a cane is left behind, and that too just a grave marker?

2024.11.11. Translated by Esther Brownwood