Overnight fixes,
Done with an accustomed quickness...
To patch up a repeating leaking dike,
Becomes a pointless proposition to consider...
When the same attempts,
Have continued to prevent re-occuring events.
And a flooding done that is in process,
Shakes those awake to face much fear.
'What should be done with the sandbags? '
~Where are they~
'Under the raging water.'
~Well...
Don't look at me.
Swim around until you find someone to accuse.~
'Should I do that with kept faith?
Or with suspicion and speculation? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem