Spring Poem by Alfred Lichtenstein
Spring
A certain Rudolf called out:
I have eaten too much.
Whether it's healthy is very questionable.
After such a greasy lunch
I really feel uncomfortable.
But I belch beautifully and smoke
Cigarettes now and then.
Lying on my heavy belly,
I chirp nothing but songs of spring.
Longingly, as though on a ramp
The voice squeals from the throat.
And like an old lamp
The wind blackens the bitter soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/23/2024 8:50:33 AM # 1.0.0.1119
