with the woman selling black market
standing near the road side
buyers comming to and fro
sleeping in a procrustean bed
there the oldest proffession
there always on a promise
they prop up the bar always
they go on public
on in the public eye
they do not have a pudding club
they do not fine it as a pulling teeth
there the oldest proffession
hope i do not marry one
they do the business with joy and sorrow
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem