I cast my spectacles away with my hand,
I refused all sensible help to adjust my life;
The using of books was against the issue
For running along the lines became hard
And futile, and boring.
The task was listed in the newspaper,
To suspend a real job, to strike.
If eyes were for seeing then sight is good,
For we love the spectacles that keep us trim,
Grimacing in the heat of the day.
They will not listen, we see and deserve the reading
Of the newspaper, a sane expression of our will.
We, we blind, are avalanched by words of the sane
Who see me grin at the feelings attached.
I only wanted faith in my glasses,
The sight is good, pleasant for one who is not blind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.