A lonely old man said to himself, whispering,
'I'm not lonely:
True that I've got no family to speak to me,
Nor do I have any friends to talk with,
But I do like the way I am;
I never ever feel lonely,
All alone, by myself,
Solitary, lonesome, or deserted.'
And he sighed,
And then laughed a bit.
That's what happened last night,
Or what happens every night,
Somewhere in my town,
Somewhere on our planet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem