In Circles

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.