1339 Greed (La golaccia)
Translated by Peter Nicholas Dale

When I watch folks a this world n’ see how widespred
It is fa them ut pile up treasure’n put on fat ta chafe
At the bit n’ grasp fa more, the way they hunger f’ra safe
As brord as the ocean, n’ so deep ut’ch’èd never touch the seabed,

I say da meself: ah, ya herd a blin’ fools, bank away, bank,
Rooen ya days with anxiedies, lose nite afta nite a sleep,
Do shady deals an diddle: then wot? Ol’ Granpa Time’ull creep
In with his scythe, n’ slice away at ya bundle a plans, hank after hank.

Deth’s hidden away, an hunkers inside the clocktower;
An nowun can say: Tamorrah wunce more I’ll
Still hear midday ring out like t’day, at this very same hour.

Wot’s the poor pilgrim do when he takes on a ruff n’tuff
Journey, knowen he’ll travel but f’ra liddle while?
He packs a crust or two a bred, an that’s anuf.

20/1/2001
The sonnet is translated into "Strine", the dialect spoken in Australia down to the 1960s.

1339 Greed (Orthographically normalized version)
Translated by Peter Nicholas Dale

When I watch folks of this world and see how widespread
It is for those, that pile up treasure and put on fat, to chafe
At the bit and grasp for more, the way they hunger for a safe
As broad as the ocean, and so deep, that it’d never touch the seabed,

I say to myself: ah, you herd of blind fools, bank away, bank,
Ruining your days with anxieties, lose night after night of sleep,
Do shady deals and diddle: then what? Old Granpa Time’ll creep
In with his scythe, and slice away at your bundle of plans, hank after hank.

Death’s hidden away, and hunkers inside the clock-tower;
And no one can say: Tomorrow, once more I’ll
Still hear midday ring out like today, at this very same hour.

What’s the poor pilgrim do when he takes on a rough and tough
Journey, knowing he’ll travel but for a little while?
He packs a crust or two of bread, and that’s enough.

20/1/2001