Translated by A. Z. Foreman - The Poem lyrics

So what, if you've written a poem?! Somebody says it's lovely, Someone else says it's awful. Someone coughs, Someone groans. The sun has no idea About the lovely poem. Nor does the cat Nor the mouse. And the house is still made of stone, The table- of wood. But the water which I drink from a gla** Is suddenly sweet, And green as gra**. I lift it high Higher than my hair And fall three times To my knees then and there, And kiss the table and kiss the house! and search every cranny for that little mouse.