My OFF switch is off,
Which means it's on:
I may have brushed it,
Flicked it in full sight;
I didn't throw a shoe at it,
Or grope during the night.
But that's how my switch works
When I'm not attentive.
The OFF goes ON,
And then I'm done,
I head towards the cave,
Alone and dark,
With my finger on the switch
To flick, when feeling fit,
When I've had enough of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem