I deny myself a slumber.
Some terrible exhaustion
Punishes me with a gloomy hell.
Without disregard
To this: conspicuous unbalance.
Phanerogamic foreigner of amazing excitement!
Will you concede your berth
To my frail and erratic body
And hardened before such a tormented rest?
Or do you not recognise me now,
Involved by an eruptive relief
Now inherent to my plea?
Damned refuge you have turned into;
Oh ruthless and lifeless inside
Does my existence claim!
Addicted to scarlet tears of the martyr
For you drew, you all became!
Your present consolation
Is for me an apparent farce...
Illusion...
Mirage of hazard...
Dream or fantasy...
Lascivious and awake I am in this trouble,
Which you pleased me with.
By a disenchanted pact,
I unload onto you all the burden of my pen nib,
Even knowing that you pay yourself
With feeble insomnia!
