Underneath the tables responds the mouse,
Inside it weeps, and soaks up water in its house.
Its house is a follower’s abode, of stealth,
May the tables bend and steal the wealth.
In its house we found the treasure of cool surroundings,
There was gold, water and many, many beginnings.
The gold was stationary, like the hostility in the tables,
The real dining occurred in this hole for animals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem