The wind’s blasting from the windows, the floor is unwashed
The wind’s blasting from the windows, the floor is unwashed.
The table’s rickety, and the cupboard’s hanging open.
Let’s go, visit friends,
And later on we’ll tidy up.
Forget it, this house!
We’ll visit friends –
have a sing-song.
It’s nice there, with its young folk.
You can fool around with the fat cat,
Compliment the hosts. Already it’s hard
To remember there’s a home back home.
Translated by Daniel Weissbort
Page(s) 245
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