Michał Bajor - Podeptane kwiaty

I was running as if through a fog,
youth was dreaming dreams for me,
which did not want to vanish at dawn.
Every peak was easy,
when one believed in the myth
of quick fame, money, applause.
The ground was tearing from underfoot,
marrying the Devil,
wanting to lead by the shortest path.
The pulse of blood throbbed in the temples
until I became tired and stopped,
and around me, no one.
And behind me, mindlessly trampled flowers,
the quiet sadness of warm rejected hands,
a glass of tea hurriedly left unfinished,
a smile shattered by my cold gaze.
And behind me, extinguished warm bright faces,
a few doors slammed shut too hastily,
landscapes barely touched by the corner of the eye,
where so many unfulfilled poems sleep.

Thus ended my trance, and today I regret those chances
that life presented to me as a gift.
When the deaf noise of applause
was the center of my concerns,
as if in a completely different dimension.
Now I am learning again the tender gestures and words,
bringing fresh bouquets home,
and somewhere deep in my heart, I have a shadow of hope that...
maybe this will be necessary to someone.