Sometimes empty
sometimes full
just like my heart
always causing me
to frown when it is empty,
yet when above the mind
dwells necessity, luxury
from anywhere
I get it all.
The cashier angrily
looks at me
when he hands
over to me
those bank notes
he does not realise
it is my own money
he is old and
he must have never
enjoyed his life
his hair is grey
his spectacles
with thick glasses on it
how he looks at me
as if I am executing a heist
and the money is his.
He is angry
that I have withdrawn
a bigger amount today
unfortunately
he does not know
that I am taking
his daughter on a date
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem