A fountain

(‘Era o fantana’ by Elena Farago, she was a Romanian poet, 1878 – 1954; this is my interpretation from original, certain words were misspelled to pertain the atmosphere)

 

On a long, stern and barren highway,
Like all the world-s highways.
On a long, stern and barren highway,
A fountain and it-s sweep astray.
As water-s builds up on it-s overway,
In mantles, skins of clays.
  
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Like all the life-s fountains.
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Water damp dirty and sly.
And the fork would handingly pry,
Decoying from afar passerbys.
  
Thirstyes rushed for water-s sway,
Like all thirstyes in life.
Pulling forcingly the sweep in dismay
But the damp water would shush-em away.
And often a youngster would just offlay
With tears on his face.
  
And often an elderly laughed his way
Like an-all too known: WATER-S LIFE.
  
A fountain and it-s sweep astray,
Water damp dirty and sly.
And the fork would handingly pry,
Decoying from afar passerbys.
  
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