I have walked many paths,
I have entered many lanes;
I have traveled a hundred seas,
and anchored at a hundred shores.
  I have seen in every corner
caravans of sadness,
proud and melancholic,
drunk off the dark shade,
  and the fashionable know-it-alls
who watch, and hush, and think
they know, because they do not
drink their wine in taverns.
  Awful people who walk about
and go stinking up the earth...
  And in every corner I have seen
people dancing or playing,
when they can, and laboring
their square of earth.
  Never do they ask, upon arriving,
where they have arrived.
When they travel, they ride
on the back of an old mule,
  and they know nothing of haste
even on the festive days.
Where there is wine, they drink wine;
where there is no wine, fresh water.
  They are good people who live,
labor, pass by and sleep,
and on a day like many others,
rest below the earth.