Daylong I grind for bread
Seek scope for a piece of loaf
Fill the bowl to feed the bowel
Keep losing the strands of thread
That amid the labor dwell!
Evening I search my coffer
For picked scraps day’s offer
Find little as toil’s return
A few pennies and much heartburn!
Night finds me a coveted treasure
Can’t count them without measure
Were buried in the daylong grind!
Released the threads rule my head
Freed from the clutch of bread
Bowl and bowel leave my mind!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An excellent write! A poet seldom enjoys the unfettered freedom to think and write only, without having to worry about earning his bread. 'Bowl and bowel leave my mind! ' An excellent conclusion.