THE CURSEMay they neverReturn home at night...May you have no part of eventide,May you have no room of your own,Nor road, nor return.May your days be all exactly the same,Five Fridays in a row,Always an unlucky Tuesday,No Sunday,May you have no more little worries,Tears or inspiration,For you yourself are the greatest worry on earth:Prisoner!
Visar Zhiti, The Condemned Apple: Selected Poetry
curse, malediction, prison, prisoner