Friday was so nice in terms of
human relations, Peter insisted
life was paradise, the President’s
Messenger enjoyed his visit to us,
singing to Jerry and James was a
treat, talking to Sylvia was a feast
BUT my work was never finished;
the core function delineated in my
job description contains evidence
that dooms me to hell…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem