Allow me to introduce myself,
my name is Dysphoria,
with a little bit of gaiety.
I skillfully handle grief,
remains of memories,
and I'm good at packing melancholy.

As for emptiness, feeling hollow
and futile, as well as laments,
I can handle them
as an extra job.
Naturally for this I need
an additional allowance: a piece of twilight
contoured by thin orange lines.

Please kindly accept
my sincere application.
As an appendix, I include here
listed old wounds: persistent pain
resulting from endless qualms.

Translated by Nikmah Sarjono