I ring for coffee, cigarette, and gin, and take
My chair so faded, to the designs we must start;
Re-reading the letters in front,
I rate the fluency and style,
Finding their clarity, like a man of worth.
When the authorities have darted
Their stare I must be the offender,
I must be the apology, and I start
At the coffee-pot with tripping into the street.
Then there was a little silly child in front of me,
The reasonable man would swing in front of her,
For this banned girl or daughter of some man
Engaged my business of letter-writing.
The simple days are about to fade and run into
Studious ways that deliver praise for the ones.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem