At the end of another working-caregiving day
I sit in the park of Saint Simon
Where in the past fifteen years
I have known many comforting moments
The wind is cold and fresh
I am tired
And I am depressed
An old failure and fool
Who has come to almost no money in his life
Dreaming in his own sad way
Yet another song of morning happiness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem