For a long time, for a while now
I am at daggers drawn with myself
I asked questions, but there was no answer
I even fought against myself
I am tired of waiting for peace
I am tired of begging for a bit of happiness on every occasion (or wishing for)
Like ashes which emerge with the mourning of the fire
Like the ships which sail in front of my eyes
Like the words which can be perceived without uttering
I stayed with myself like a stranger
If it is not now, when is the right time ?
Will I be at the right place at that moment ?
Will I be guilty, if I'm a rebel ?
Isn't there any scene in (the theater of) the fate that would make me happy?