The wife, has many shadows on the wall of jealous fear.
With one eye always open,
the other one depending on which dear.
And my wife knew all the upright social boys.
Being plundered, while I slept.
And the good book where it opened, spoken of.
Where (to look for trouble) it is made.
Pebbles cast against my window,
asking and is caught.
Strangers in my garden plunders, sleeping idiot!
Speaking half white truths.
When I become of age,
and my husband might have once then been.
That never seems to stop them,
when you drink and take those pills.
When you were young it was the opposite I feared.
Never waking up however slight my movement.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem