There is a chair on castors, in my room
Into it I sit, rotating around, day and night.
I look above at the coved ceiling,
Swiveling in circles, with the hands of clock;
One round, two rounds, three rounds past
I still rotate around, day and night.
Now the walls begin to walk, and cupboards run,
I see colours and stars, and strange shapes in my eyes!
Then an angel descends from the clouds of my mind,
And gently removes and keeps my head aside.
I listen to my laughter, but forget my voice
I am still alive, but as if without a life;
Like the dervishes, I whirl around, my skirt flying by,
My red hat too, rotates around, day and night.
I feel like I am that little keyed doll,
That claps and jumps, with its rotating key.
I feel like the planets dancing around in sky,
Bored of revolving around the same old sun;
Even the lemon looks pretty same, like that sun
Now squeezed dry, into the cocktail of my memories.
