The Ditch is dear to the Drunken man
For is it not his Bed – his Advocate – his Edifice –
How safe his fallen Head
In her disheveled Sanctity –
Above him is the sky –
Oblivion bending over him
And Honor leagues away –

F1679/J1645/1885

De Sloot is de dronkaard dierbaar.
Want is het niet zijn Bed – zijn Weldoener – zijn Woning –
Hoe veilig is zijn gevallen hoofd
In haar slonzige Heiligdom –
Boven hem de hemel –
Vergetelheid buigt zich over hem
En Eer is mijlen ver –