Melanoma Grading System

I live in a beautiful country, poor / rich only warmth / with old houses and cracked walls / between people who also greeted the stranger. I would rather listen to the songs of the country, spend nights in an inn / watch the sun rise in the morning / a bit 'sleepy, but in the right company / I want to see the kids in the garden of the curate stealing apricots. I want to hear the mayor speak in the square as the harvest is gone / I want to buy the milk of the herdsman / hear the braying of an old mule / see the chickens scratching / sitting in the shade under the pergola / I want to live in this poor country! / I be rich like them! / I want an old house and cracked

poem written in the late '70s An Old Bussana
po'talebana, but the human warmth, people greeted the stranger ... not bad!