An old man,
working at a roadside stand,
for the customers,
whose broken shoes he repairs.
Doing that business for many years,
he has seen not only many different shoe brands,
but also many different men and women.
Some look rich
but are very thrift.
Some look poor,
but they would never
bargain about a little money,
so long as they are happy,
giving a handsome tip,
for his good service.
Some women are beautiful,
but they wear stinking socks and shoes.
Some look down upon him for doing such a lowly job,
but he is very proud of,
that he never steal or rob.
His money was very honest.
Without worry, soundly he always slept.
Sitting on the wooden stool,
He continues to work with his tools,
fixing the broken shoes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem