Seeing the man for nearly twenty years
In his eternal Spring of joblessness
Man, wife, a son
A one storied house
Market and home
The only places I have seen him tread
And on the roof
Any time of day
He’s there
Staring around
Sky gazing
I envy him
His length and space
Stealing my Saturday dusk
Sunday dawn
Weekday moon
I envy him
For so much time
If I had
Would have spun endless rhyme
But then ceasing remorse
That like him
Much time isn’t mine
I think
Stuffed with so much seen
Heard
Observed
The bard in me
In free time’s delirious wine
Wouldn’t have budged a line!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
No creativity will occur with too much of time at our disposal! Like the Lotus Eaters, we will then slip into indolence! An unrefuted Truth put forth in a beautiful way! ! Enjoyed! !