I am a don, I am a don,
Said He,
Putting the hands in his pocket
And saying in a heavy voice,
Somewhat carrying weight and laden
And after hearing him, said I in fear,
Yes, boss, yes, boss,
You are my mother-father,
You leave me,
I beg life from you
As had a pistol with him,
An unlicensed firearm
Which but frightened me so much,
The don with the pistol.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem