Some secret diary pages are missing,
and images from the society margins have faded over time
as well as the places I visited while searching for myself.
After twenty years the world put on a brand-new robe,
where my childhood home was, there’s now a landfill,
street gangs often steal my discarded stuff
with which I try to replace some of my furniture,
and my bedroom overlooks the sky
sinking more and more into an impenetrable grayness.
The last memory of my family is an alarm clock
whose hands stopped showing time long ago,
and to fill the void of loneliness
I melancholically listen to an old turntable
which looks like my late father’s
on which we often played the song “Forever Young”.
Nearby is an abandoned train station
for which they say looks like Berlin “Zoo Station”
and where ruined existences succumb to apathy.
The temperature in Africa
rises to over 40 degrees during the daytime,
but despite all troubles of life
I still hope that at the end of my life wanderings
the door of salvation will open for me
and that afterward I will finally be treated like a human.