Headstrong, I never longed to run,
one off and when into the other,
crossing one short bridge after brothers, being young.
Bacon kept at bay, wives fish the market
baskets full of olive oil,
yet sardines and crackers, cheese and wine
garlic bread each stick when rolled in butter,
tastes the best until the next, comes home from sea.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem