feeling enslaved
you wonder for days
counting numbers
in calendars, your word
is soon, sooner, and
soonest, a day shall come
and stand by you,
and asks for your hand
to lead you to freedom,
you dream of a clean house
by the hill
a woman servant that dusts
away some dirty furniture
someone that cooks the food
you want to eat
that prepares you your drink
to make you taste
what bliss is......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem