The waiter
The girl from yesterday came into my café
I served her slowly on my waiter`s flat feet
She had coffee and a bun gave me ten pence
In tips, she read a paper, smoked a cigarette
Then left without saying good-bye
And that was it let yesterday sleep waking
Up the past serves no one
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
She had coffee and a bun and gave me ten pence Had she much, she would have given you much more!
indeed