After 8 years
of bumbled scourging
for his last miscast,
a flagellant picked a scar
and opened it right up
with less than a month to go.
To his credit
he picked one that
wouldn't get much of the ado
and would heal fast.
He was left with just what he wanted:
4 more years
in which to be properly scourged
for his last miscast.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem