I hear the noise in the untidy Workshop;
'Fine threads gone
in the hole.
Tap it again
with a different size.
But slowly,
My dear Blacksmith,
it's very painful the stingy life
with pinching tools.
You have to apply grease
all the time to tranquilize.
This mild steel, you temper
with terrible heat.
Useless Boss,
Let me die with the rusty coat
and it's not fit for the funniest long bridge
That never reaches a friendly land? '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem