Thought of job
Bad sickness,
grounded
take good side
leave alone
other side.
Sit read, write
related to my job.
My job that makes money
brings food to feed me
is not my favourite
it won't be
not ever.
But lights, darks
days and nights
get along,
make the time
and our life.
The same is with the job
has two sides.
With it I travel
go around
see the names on the roads
on the ports.
Then question:
"Who are they? "
Now
almost in sickbed
I read them to find out
that makes me love my job.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem