oon I come back from the school.

　　I can see through the gate of that house the gardener digging the ground.

　　He does what he likes with his spade，he soils his clothes with dust，nobody takes him to task if he gets baked in the sun or gets wet.

　　I wish I were a gardener digging away at the garden with nobody to stop me from digging.

　　Just as it gets dark in the evening and my mother sends me to bed.

　　I can see through my open window the watchman walking up and down.

　　The lane is dark and lonely，and the street-lamp stands like a giant with one red eye in its head.

　　The watchman swings his lantern and walks with his shadow at his side，and never once goes to bed in his life.

　　I wish I were a watchman walking the streets all night，chasing the shadows with my lantern.