IN the newspaper office-who are the spooks?
Who wears the mythic coat invisible?
Who ****foots from desk to desk
with a speaking forefinger?
Who gumshoes amid the copy paper
with a whispering thumb?
Speak softly-the sacred cows may hear.
Speak easy-the sacred cows must be fed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem