Fine, Cordell the envy-of,
Andrew the man which hung,
O miserable and gloomy of,
Bitterness.. within.
What he was a victim of,
what poison venomous may fall,
the human sadness of them all,
of God - God.
New York accent, wider smile,
staggering to keep,
his pockets within his silence,
staggering, struggling not to weep.
An author of Human-Sadness,
the long drained words which he,
sent to me, - unwillingly,
to God bless (me) .
But not me, I read more than the first 5 lines,
(me who shall read!)
what is a word when it's not about me?
the lines on each page.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem