Fast, violent gustoes raise laughters
On silent roofs and sleepy streets
And seem to be vulgar pratters
As if they were quarrelling over seats.
They laugh at the torn tents of paupers
Enter cloth homes without permission
And roam about like misery's hawkers
Destruction of nests is their mission.
So romantic they are for strong walls
That defend the precious lives of the rich
Who enjoy dinners in royal halls
Who are great players on the life's pitch.
Warm wool welcomes winter's wayward waft
And enjoys the company of hot tea or coffee
Along with wonderful facilities' charming raft
From tortures of tensions their minds are free.
Winter nights are full of misery and pleasure
They bring tears, sighs as well as leisure
Disliked by someones and someones' dear
Fancy for some and for others dark fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice to read, I like last verses that winter nights are full of misery and pleasure, thanks for sharing