Working Translations

Panting, along the gray road, which lost itself in the distance in a damp autumn fog, an old man walked, doubled over. Feet bare in worn-out shoes, trousers ragged and dirty, dressed in a thin shirt of blue cloth which covered him without protecting him from the bitter north wind that blew, a cheap cap pulled down over his eyes, an empty beggar’s bag on his back, and in his hand a gnarled stick which he supported his tottering only with great difficulty: his whole aspect inspired a distressing sadness.