The Tinkerer * spoke next; small and feeble of frame,
he quaked and quivered, shaking an adorable mane;
he twittered: “I have nothing more than my hair,
and my courage is naught; have you any to share?
My wagon is too feeble to carry me –
to the end of my quest; my sanctuary.
Why must I travel all alone –
no gold, not even a throne?
Oh me – oh my – I do seek fame, glory and grace,
But my ugly disposition complements my face,
Therefore, I should abandon this chimerical race –
exhaustion lengthens my traveling days,
my mind is bathed in a worrisome haze.
I hear the miner’s gold is in the well, and I –
for easy riches will make my home nearby.
* A mender of pots, kettles, pans, etc., usually an itinerant.
Next Post; S1:E33 The Dehkhoda Answers the Tinkerer