With pleasure I hear only St. John’s singing.
And books only with yats I love to choose,
I hate only the idle and scapegoats,
Although sometimes sin in both too.
I’m tired of creating at my workplace,
To pray here and the poems to write,
As if I were a goat in enclosure,
But if I go –I will receive otitis.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem