Methink the firewood of this World...ay.
Alas! How long do we await Lefty? Or
Is Godot the soothing marrow?
Arise O Compatriots: come, see,
The Centre is on a brink of catastrophe and
The Mantle is unavoidably romancing
The unenviable feet of Godot.
Hmm!
When will the Grass breathe
The comfort of the Rain?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem