after the work is done
what will you do next?
take a rest you cannot
sit and sip your tea
you still cannot
you are simply not
comfortable not having
any work at all
your hands tremble
without anything to do
you panic on this state
of uselessness
you become confused
in emptiness with
nothing to do
so after the work is done
you look for more work
again, for they must not
forget you,
your name had always
been
Sisyphus, a convict
of the gods, eternally
damned to be always
on the go
and stopping is simply
not possible..............
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem