This cloak I wear, by day and by night,
Though warm it not, nor its burden light.
It hangs on my bones, as a drunk female sailor,
Clawing and pawing, flouting its failures.
Though odious to others, my cloak may be,
It both defines and perplexes me.
Yet it remains, serving its function,
And in it I stay, without compunction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem