they will tell you
it is getting dark, and
they will say it is raining
hard outside,
with all those cats and dogs,
and all you can say is
you don't know and all you can
feel is nothing.
the light inside the office
has become your sun,
and there you are,
the overworking little god,
wanting to own a universe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem