I seek to know what friendship entails!
It's a good clothe that's worn roughly.
A good wine drank to the excess.
The city was running mad-
So I turned to the rivers.
There on the street of no-streets,
I met my friend of no-friends;
Who holds the title of no-titles.
He said to me ''read my lips''
Then he muttered some words-
And all I heard was just my voice
My own voice!
I know my words, and can't be stolen
In reply to him I said 'read my lips'
Here again the voice, not mine
With one asking I came hither
With two askings I should have left
Now go back I with two answering
That none has answered my askings, but me
And that alone is friendship untold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, good work.