My Thoughts

My thoughts have scattered once again,
And once more, I can’t gather them together.
While on the windowsill, gathering dust,
Lies a notebook with verses in its squares.
They refuse to sit within the lines,
Like everyone — they long for freedom.
They run away to the sea, the sun, the summer,
While autumn already dances with the leaves.

They’ll feel chilly in the autumn rain,
Huddling in flocks where it’s warm,
Asking to winter in the notebook,
Buzzing loudly again inside my head.
I’ll arrange them all across the squared pages,
Writing various life stories with them.
And they’ll sit quietly until spring,
In the notebook where the sheets are numbered.

They’ll warm themselves together, like lazy cats,
Awaiting the end of this drawn-out winter.
But as soon as the droplets ring outside,
They’ll wake up again and start to make noise.
They’re cramped in the squares: no new ideas,
It’s long been time for them to fly free.
They need the sea, the sun, the wild wind,
And once again, they’ll want to live in this world...

And once again, my thoughts will scatter,
Once more, I won’t be able to gather them.
And on the windowsill, long covered in dust,
Lies the notebook, now thinner, with its verses.
They refuse to sit within the lines,
Like us — they want their freedom.
They run to the sea, the sun, the will, the wind,
And in the ordinary rush, life passes by.