Machines in life are all sitting idle in parking lots, no gas
for their tanks, no parts to repair them with, no one to care
for them.
Left in parking lots, garages and in tunnels, no where to go
because everything has been shut down and life is at a stand-
still, no longer able to move ahead.
Progress has put a stop to all that once was a pleasure, yet
is now taking a stand in the center of another life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem