He spends each night in my head doing the filing,
he's a conscientious man, he wants things neat and on the dot,
there's been vandalism, damage and the work's been piling,
at times he can't find the file and it's slot.
He is forever searching for it's proper place,
and he keeps me awake at night,
he's working at a furious pace,
but on my life he has made a blight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem