giggle my finger tips
a prestigious show I ever have gone,
thou happy yet not contented,
the numb wait until my
vote is counted
ballot boxes mixed
with something that I don't know, hold
my anxieties so tremendously stop
my breath, perhaps a caution in the shoe
keeps my day so cool
the count started and the people
waited, spiritedly unfold
the whole crowd
wants to call; as the phone ring
but nobody listen for
all eyes in the TV and cheer comes to easy
as the vote is counted everybody
is exited
loud voice heard across
the land where everybody's hand rising
in the sun
praising, dancing and thanking for election
time is done
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem