When he sleeps the rest of the house can't
Even if the wife closes every window and door,
It is as though she is living in a manufacturing plant
Whenever her husband begins to snore.
Is he the only one that is entitled to sleep
Must his wife alone suffer through his affliction,
At night she counts pigs, and not sheep
From their bed she always hopes for an eviction.
The husband goes to bed early every night
So, his wife must go to bed early every morning,
And that sleepiness and tiredness she must fight
With tears and prayers and also a exhausted warning.
Though she cannot find her solitude and peace
Because of the snorting and grunting and roaring,
Maybe though one day from silence she will call the police
For the murder of her husband, from his snoring.
Randy L. McClave
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem