Early in the morning
before the first coffee cups are set
and the first brew is made
Filemon arrives.
At a time I see him
riding a big black bicycle
and how he struggles
to get all the parcels
to the post office.
Later he drives a blue-grey station wagon
from which he carries a load of parcels
and never there’s a difference of a cent
on the money that he banks
and even when he’s doing his work
to the best of his ability,
a decision is made
that he must stay a messenger
and have to drive people and parcels around.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem