Over the split milk
Remember, better an
Empty house
Than an ill tenant.
My dear, try to gain
With pain
Do not say other and remember
Nero fiddles
While Rome burns.
I know fine words
Butter no parsnip
But it is I who said
Do not dig on a hill
For rat.
Go on knowledge
It is power
My dear, know that
Little drops
Make an ocean.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem