I am the man on the bus
I sat on your left last Tuesday
I am balding, nondescript, meek
I am dressed in shabby clothes
You with your tip-top, incarnadine nails
Your businesswoman's suit
Chose not to notice me
Once I was a boy who always raced
Under the careless wheel of a passing lorry
I learned young to moderate my pace
What lessons, fellow traveller have you learned?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem