He isn't fed up,
He's still hungry
It doesn't atone for the unrelenting failure,
But it will have to do
Feelings of humiliation and exposure,
Replaced by the needs of survival,
Overruling the requirement to fill a need to swim in the labor pool
It's just the way he has to stay afloat,
Taking a dip every once in awhile,
Coming up with a glass half-full
Still filing away,
Grinding when possible, if able to breathe
Just think, tomorrow is a fresh calendar,
Leaving less room for the shallow end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem