I wear my shoes in a couple of ways,
So children soon reply with a casual greeting,
Those in school uniforms offer majestically
The praise accorded to a sane hatted man.
I see before me a flickering candle flame,
I am in my flannel shirt upon the unmade bed,
Maybe the three-piece suit needs wearing,
So the talk of men and women receives me.
My view of the city from the top of the building
Is like a wedding of the old ways, piles of food
And luscious juices, for the lights glimmer finely
And brightly, mixed lights and forever lights.
The day is weak, the night is long, my clothes
Have outdone me, like a spider surrounding its prey,
Or like a captive in the hands of the enemy,
For cloth is the substance of despair for me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem