Penpal,  Sunday word hunter: poetry and nonsense

Penpal no. 19

blank letter paper with envelope near dried sprig
Photo by Monstera on Pexels.com

Automatic you say?

Why is it that I have to content,

With whatever thrown by the dice?

And yet…I have been choosing,

My life away, unbecome.

No wonder I try,

Where dry spells are so thirsty of wonder and zest.

¿Automático dices?

¿Por qué debería contentarme,

A los caprichos del azar?

Y sin embargo, ¿qué hago?

Eligiendo un desperdicio de vida.

No me asombra que intente,

Allí dónde la sequía está sedienta de asombro y verdad.

Deja un comentario