Traveling down life's inane highway, being bumped and
thrown about, rushing to escape the crowds pouring
out of work for a weekend of rest or not.
Shouting to the heavens where all shouts are heard.
(Even in middles of deserts and sand dunes) .
Being alone in a turmoil of incessant commotion, not
wanting to turn and/or answer anyone.
Unbelievably counting seconds of freedom from arduous
work, hoping that soon I can quit and win money from
the Lotto.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem