The lights in my study are on,
at 3: 30 a.m
A car speeds off,
along the road below.
Its headlights penetrating the darkness.
Perhaps its occupants wondering,
why my lights were on.
Not knowing I am reading,
Emily Dickinson's poetry in solititude.
I too wondering,
what errand the driver is running,
and for whom!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem