With no agent's or solicitor's fee
And no furniture of any degree.
No removal van at the door
No dirty feet, messing the floor,
No goods to box or crate
No paper work to cremate.
No phoning to cancel utilities
No broken promises, or obscenities,
No cleaning, to ease a conscience
No time of thought, or remembrance,
Moving house for a snail, is no sweat
It moves and moves without regret.
With all its possessions on its back
Carried like a tramp carries a sack.
Moving is slow, without a wheel
Until momentum arrives with appeal
And takes it smoothly to pastures new
Where it will dine with the well to do
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem