I do not eat my bread dry anymore

I do not eat my bread dry anymore;

A thorn remains stuck in my foot.

In vain, I look around to the right and left

And find no one who might love me.

If only there might be an old, little man

Who showed me a little love and respect.

I mean, of course, a well-built,

Respectable old man, of about my age.

I mean, to be quite frank,

A little old man of about fourteen.