I work all day, to have bread on the table
Evening comes, there is no bread to show
The next day I woke up, I don't want to work
Day comes, then night, the same cycle.
Well, I brace myself and start all over again
But the cycle, like a horrific shadow, follows on
Loud and loud I shout, 'Stop! '
But then it gets faster, nearer
Oh! The dreadful shadow has no ears.
The dread curves me out like soft squash
My will to face it stares moresely down
Just as my heart holds paralyzed over the void
Suddenly I am reminded of the 'Good Book'
Where does my help come from?
It comes from the Lord, my Maker
He reminds me how the episodes pass
I do not know how they do
All I know is they always come and pass
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely prose poem. Positive and hopeful
Thanks. I appreciate