How tried looking ye
How pitiful the yawning look,
Measured rest waits for you
Upon the thrifty cozy bed.
Those traverse the impediments
Of unforeseen fate early or late,
Those upon the fringe of wealth
Contenting for having the waste,
Street dogs squabbling for rotten bread
Or dogs premium barking from arcade.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem