The lights in my study are on, 
at 3: 30 a.m
A car speeds off, 
along the road below.
Its headlights penetrating the darkness.
Perhaps its occupants wondering, 
why my lights were on.
Not knowing I am reading, 
Emily Dickinson's poetry in solititude.
I too wondering, 
what errand the driver is running, 
and for whom!                
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
 
                    