We sit at our tidy desks
And dream of wild days by the sea
We collect our papers together
And think of what might be;
A shaft lighting the dust
Through a tiny slit
Come filtered good times
The memories flit;
Cherished times, momentous times
Things beyond the glass
As we sit at our tidy desks
And watch the time pass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem