Some days I am connected
To all nature on this earth
Yet others I am restless
And unsure about my worth.
Such times of inner turmoil
Can last a goodly while
Yet in the end, the sunshine
Will always make me smile.
I love to watch the lights flash by
Travelling from town to town
Throughout the inky, velvet night
They lift me when I’m down.
And following their smoky chains
As far as the eye can see
I am quite grateful for their pains
To light the way for me.
Caught between insolvency
And fast dwindling sanity
My mind slowly numbed
By the daily inanity:
To pay our rent and bills
That roll in despite my thrift
I prostitute my skills
And in limbo I must drift.
To utilise my brain
Or my imagination
At work would be insane
An idea far above my station:
The humble secretary
Must lighten others’ loads
Polite, always on time
And in nicely fitting clothes.
We mustn’t get too comfy
Or feel we are unique
As, impertinent, we’re fired
If we don’t turn the other cheek.
I hope my childrens’ children
Will not have to do the same
As what they term ‘profession’
Is truly a mug’s game.
Something is missing from my little world
Time passes so swiftly it’s almost absurd
As soon as my first daily job has been done
I’m already late starting on the next one.
Oh when will this treadmill let me catch my breath?
I’ve been working so hard, though young, I feel like death.
When finally homeward I wearily tread
It’s hardly worth sleeping, much less going to bed.
For changing to nightgown, brushing hair and teeth,
Wastes such precious time that I get no relief
And scrambling through supper and other routine
Makes senseless my efforts to rest or keep clean.
Even on the weekends, my work’s never done
As between friends and fam’ly, my time’s not my own.
Before I am ready it’s Monday alas,
And the whole wretched cycle starts over apace.
Che non potrei dare per un solo giorno
Senza gli ordini – niente da fare
Ni appuntamenti, neanche un lavoro
Ma il dritto di scegliere quando alzarmi.
Non pass’rei quel tempo tranquillo in fretta
Ma mi goderei poi d’ore benedette
E ‘tta riposata mi guarderei intorno
Dicendo ‘alquanto bello e stato quel giorno?’