While I was walking down the road
Could see a talkative man sitting on timber
I had asked him to speak broad
And his face turned amber.
For he was muttering unfashionably
But quite liable to be anyone's prey
He was not wise, even in mind not so holy
So his advise, unwanted, seemed to be grey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem