If Only I were Made Doorkeeper
The mansion of my sister,
With door in the center of her house,
Its door-leaves are open,
The bolt is sprung,
My sister is angry!
If only I were made doorkeeper!
Then I would make her rage at me,
Then I would hear her angry voice,
And be a child in fear of her!
Poem 7, from IIa
The First Collection, Papyrus Harris 500
