What a surrealist day
didn't get up till ten
things went all astray
only i did realize then
in car was mobile phone
thirty three missed calls
my messages was a moan
'you should be at work', balls
getting ready very fast
speeding off to work
followed horse-cart lot of brass
and slowest driver 'jerk'
I started fuming
now was very late
never did any humming
hums are out of date
eventually i arrived
boss wasn't in a mood
today was very contrived
tomorrow i'll allude*
allude*= make a more or less disguised reference to
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem