In damp and
mouldy cells,
we return every night
to sleep.
Our existence
is already fixed,
so we must not
think.
We have short,
happy moments,
only in the dark,
while we are dreaming.
Certainly we lack
something,
but we never know
what it can be.
After all,
it's sufficient for us
only and always
to obey.
I have written this my poetry in Italian language, therefore its translation in English language could have minor "Vis Poetica".
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