Edvard Søderberg: Poems of the Street
Shoemaker Sjøblad is old and grey -
has been so for quite some time;
his coat is worn, his nose is red
and money? He has none.
He whistles a tune and mends a shoe;
he basks and drinks and works, -
shoemaker Sjøblad is not of those
who melancholy lurks.
When times are bad and income less,
and deprivation stills the tools,
he continues to chew tobacco
and sticks to his work as a rule.
In the basement on the corner, when the day is done,
and the sun’s got tired of travelling,
and the moon and the stars behind rooftops rise –
there they meet up - the old gang.
They discuss whatever the day has brought
with gestures voices loud.
- Here, gentlemen! Silentium here…
Sjøblad has the word.
Shoemaker Sjøblad is drunk like a pig
and happy as happy is. -
And should you be cranky and melancholy
then go and become his apprentice.