It's shame of blow to call you a fellow
for in the mud you love to wallow
in cleanliness of wit thou hate and low
long before dawn you still rest in callow
follow not the gallows of tipsy shallow to burrow
keep out witless rage out to cage
or does these advent sweet your page
flash it all past, death is the wage
not in respect of your own age
so bandage your rage as good manage.
do not in thy world seem as fool in ink
but sit in silence to reason your think
the world will always pay their lust in drink
it will happen in regret just as blink
to be my pal link to good not in sink.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.