Friend of the young and old
Party gifts of natures own
What will be of lives full
You holder of natures burden
That is filtering in bits of mix hue
Downing heats of complex mix
Secrets existing in different folds
Coming as a story to be hold
Filtering away in different fixes
Flowing out with drags of measure
Closing on dirt in the morning hour
And cleaning of beds at close of day
You are becoming a place idolized
Taking your turn on humans own
Waste-bin of solids and mixes,
Weights of resounding whistles
As you go down measuring waste
And draining in colors of water
Many are the cravings of the man
The little hole even taking the fan
As others are sitting and burning
Their quest for lustful desires
As the master push in and out
Mounting his joy on a little hole
The hole is laughing in doses
Patiently waiting for the next visitor
Yet it open receiving the next owner
That are several but never
Disappointing the owners noses
Even in the late nights or darkness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem