Rocky, ferocious shepherd dog,
looks at me with large sad eyes
from behind the little gate
of his narrow tiled path:
while he looks at me, he howls
all his immense awful pain,
because his beloved master
didn't bring him for a walk.
i then stop for a moment,
stretching out my reckless hand
(from which he could tear off
all my fingers with a bite)
and caress him on his muzzle,
saying him some good words
suitable to console him:
such a ferocious watch dog
should bever cry like that,
otherwise, what fear
could he cause to the thieves?
he doen't understand my words,
but, when we meet on the street,
he comes and bumps his muzzle
againjst mi right tie,
because he's really grateful...