there are more spaces for praise
more blanks to fill for grace
an empty seat is there for you to sit
a lonely park for you to cheer
with your steps
the late bus meets you and you must be there
as its passenger
north bound to places where you heart has not been
your room in the office
waits for your presence
the buzzing sound of the air conditioner
has been a long hypnotic friend lulling you to think
the table waits for your arms to rest
for your hands to start the magic of work
you figure out what meaning is there in all these inanimate friends of yours
you smile, there are too many....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem