My ears ring too loud; I can’t hear

The one song I need, pure and full

Too many shouts, not one is clear  

My ship floats, despite a cracked hull

The rain weeps in sympathy

For all cursed—blessed?—to be alone

For all the struggling souls like me

The puddles’ embrace takes us home

Come, you flowers that still refuse

To lose your bright, blood-red petals

Welcome sailors, who search for clues

In a storm that never settles

The truth burns, an infinite load

On those who feel remote in knowing,

Who strive to follow the just road

Theirs are the only rivers flowing

Real or not, I fall into silence

At least, the voices in my heart

Yell, indignant, an inner violence

Louder than my real voice, at the start

Preoccupied jokers cannot hear

Even if I screamed my tirades

Only the fog listens to my fear:

This plague of conscience never fades