After The Change It Is Spinning... Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt
After The Change It Is Spinning...
The engine no longer is turning the grinder.
The clock has stopped, it isn't beating.
The neighbour isn't measuring blows
out for the wife, because
it is not nice.
Invariably the blue bus
only runs,
delivering sleepy,
not-sleep
and get enouh sleep.
After the night shift, the driver wandered
around the town. A new grinder bought.
He will already be not having to bite
and to swallow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 9:55:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Piece everyday reality shown curiosly. Game of associations. It is worthwhile reading.