the white poodle keeps wagging
its tail
looking for my preferential attention
the motorcycles on the road
are noisy again
some children keep on tapping
their feet
imitating the dance of the
penguins
on the other hand the old woman
slowly ekes his tired feet
on the way to the church
the church bell keeps on its clanging
saying today is Sunday
i got no weekend
on a crisis of the pages of the books
some poems to justify
my contempt for rites and rituals and boring sermons
do not judge the cover of the book
until you dropp dead on the floor
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem