When a drunken man snores
Then thunder should be ignored
His heartbeat goes up to heaven and down to hell
And kills when he yells
He follows the spirit music
Steps to it rhythm and basics
When a drunken man cries
It's a solemn sound of crises
For crosses and lost
If at all he could account for the cost
For his grief is as vain as empty bottles
Of whisky and gin littered on his table
When a drunken man smiles
It's but a wrinkle face
Or worthless memories as his race
Made of wine and merry massacre
And smiles at whisky and gin
When a drunken man dies
Who cares how he lies
His neighbors heave a sigh
And cast their flowers nigh
But the barman would mourn him more
And on his tomb the last tribute pour w
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem