Home to all the city dwellers,
I envied all those with cellars;
Small spaces to warm my back.
I lived alone on the city crack;
Seeingviolent crimes and wanting food.
Surely I could be of some good,
To the cops who ran the block.
If they'd give me food I'd wait;
With a camera at twelve o clock,
And let the robbers take the bate.
I'd do this for some food and cash,
and some whisky with a dash
of any hand-out from the state.
Now I have a cellar too, and a date.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There is really not much to say about this poem. It is fairly clear, though at the end there is room for interpretation. In that sense, it is a classical modern poem. The story is new in its aspects. This adds value to it. This also makes it worth reading. GW62