Bewildered little people
Frantically pushing their heads
On windmills ledges
To spin spin spin with no end
Immobile and cold
Rested under a blanket
My sad eyes follow
The moving dots
I have to get somewhere
I can’t stay still
A Collision of fright
To find what’s right
I’ve given up
On the rising heat
I’ve given up
On the melting ice
My end’s where I stand
And I’ll stand under
A god I don’t know
A world that’s moving so slow
Running so fast
You’re going so slow
Spin spin spin
Nor I or god win
Just billions of windmills
Spinning to win
A race that ended long ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem