Open in a worry, open with fits,
Let happy work collide with this sitting.
May showers of laughter shine with rain,
Letters of polite work are to gain.
The humour of a pest is strong when collected,
It does not stain the carpet or be weak and strong.
The weeping of after-life is greater than might,
Open in a moment of glory, open with fits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem