Carpenter
I wind him like clock
Possibly simple bomb
And he talks
Every word is alarm.
Eyes reddish, is drunk
With laughter and smile
Obvious his laugh-lines;
Crow's-feet come alive:
"Now I am sixty five! '
Retired and tired.
Romanian-Hungarian
Like many of his kind
Another victim of 'The Cold War'
Remnant of old borders
Born to be faded unrecorded.
Has had gains and losses
With many address-change
To from the motels and houses.
To past-now of Lakeshore
Can be called best witness.
Now installs cabinets;
He works as carpenter
An expert in job-change.
Works with those who pay cash
"Forget tax…"
Chooses time to work or
Stay home and relax.
But always has in hand
A bottle of beer, or a can:
"This is how want to die!
Best Life-End alcohol!
Drink and be passive!
Hell to want, and greed! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem