You are not a painter
So cut for them some timber
Make fourteen chairs and more beds,
Add some tables
And fix the labels of a summer fiesta in the air
It is time to go partying
So they say siesta
They shall soon be sleeping
Mr. Carpenter,
Cut more the timber
Take your time and drink some coffee
Make some coffin of fine timber
That coffin you have made,
Mr. Carpenter,
After the party
Will take them home to rest
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 poem.