I am tired, always tired, before and after the sleep.
days and nights, I spend lying on the bed,
under the constant protesting sound of the fan,
blowing hot air.
The Sun is over my head always,
I can not shake it away.
He sucks the winds to boil them,
to throw them back on me.
The shadows have disappeared,
the world is thin without volume.
In the morning and in the evening,
I scan the dusty sky,
search leaves on the branches of the trees,
search a torn piece of cloud in the sky,
to believe in hope,
to build courage to live.
Today, near the horizon,
I saw an arm extended,
to feel the first drop of rain on hand.