Contemplating a red light buried under the reminiscent remorse of a day.
Carrying a sales line, wondering, hoping, dreaming of today's wages, sublime.
Selling our souls for another night at home.
Winding down the day until the moment of peace and tranquillity.
The alarm rings, the outdoors sing, the soul of man brings him to bat,
For yet another swing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this poem jeff well done