Complaints
Nasty and nippy air smothers
Joints, muscles, trouble
And nag and constantly complain
From work, from walk and the pain!
Stand as commander for soldiers;
Angry, stubborn, shout at them:
"All of you go to hell! "
Later and with reason, explain:
"Alive means walking tall with pride;
Better laid in grave than ask, beg
I shall not die in bed! "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem