“Human life is a struggle, isn’t it?
It’s a life sentence to hard labor.
Like field hands longing for quitting time
and working stiffs with nothing to hope for but payday,
I’m given a life that meanders and goes nowhere—
months of aimlessness, nights of misery!
I go to bed and think, ‘How long till I can get up?’
I toss and turn as the night drags on—and I’m fed up!
I’m covered with maggots and scabs.
My skin gets scaly and hard, then oozes with pus.
My days come and go swifter than the click of knitting needles,
and then the yarn runs out—an unfinished life!