Today is a day of laziness,
Who ever thought of it
Is one great man,
For people to mostly laze away,
Holidaying, partying,
Or just snuggle in a sofa,
Seeing the tv, reading a paper,
To its last letters slowly,
Sunday is a day, for
The work doesnt beckon us,
The pace lagging behind,
No traffic jams, most shops
Closed, everyone enjoys
Its onset and regrets
Its departure so fast
The fun ebbing out so hurriedly.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem