It is not the position,
not the money,
not the opportunity.
It is breakfast
with my steaming tea,
my rolls,
my periodicals,
my wife pouring, buttering, keeping quiet,
my shower, towel, shirt and tie,
my selection of that tie and
that tie’s winding,
my good-bye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem