All night I sat, enjoying my new Easyboy,
a man my age must have a favourite toy.
Before me stood a paper-laden desk
I'd say it fit the plain description Kafkaesque.
The say a mountain of unfinished, urgent tasks
can be endured, by some, while others must wear masks,
for me, I find a place to rest my aching feet
among the mess they make the disarray look neat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem