Day in and day out,
They file into lines.
Up and round about,
Each takes up vines.
Slivers of whisk,
Tickets to train.
Travel so brisk
Sun, sleet or rain.
Later today,
The same routine.
Different way,
A 180, clean.
Day in and day out,
They file and they weave,
In, down, up and out,
So hard to believe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem