That he-goat might have been a gay- ox,
But, for his governess he is a timid scholar,
A quivering yes-man to please the Madame,
Knowing well the daily requiem.
Undone he is for mouse’s ration,
The mistress liquidates his residue potion,
Lullaby –lullaby , the pages torn,
Knew he the consequence, when was born!
Perhaps weak to the bone as stamped natural,
The bookish seals vaunt withal,
Save himself, all know him as coated genius,
Ah! He might be an individual with conscience’s touch.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem