[Anglika]

Originally Posted by Bassim

Please, would you proofread my poem.

Belonging


Late in the night I use to open my bedroom window,

letting the cold Swedish winter come in. letting in the cold Swedish winter

All my neighbours were sleeping,

hard working people and old pensioners,

spending their last years on this forlorn planet.

Tomorrow, they will rush to their jobs

and walk their dogs.

They are part of this world.

They know what they are doing.


As for me, I belong nowhere.

I am like this cold wind,

entering for a short while

and, in the next moment,

trembling over silver birches outside.