I 've met a friend from Spain,
For his country, I can't disdain.
His words are sweet,
His elegance is complete.
His snail mail is clever and long
The style is perfect, not wrong,
For his traits, I can sing a song.
I have never met him face to face,
For his personality I can guess and trace.
I can't probe the inner self,
He tells the truth, not an elf
To travel to Spain may be an aim,
The aim may be bright, not dim
Travel overseas,
Stable mind is a disease
Once upon a time
I 've met an amego who 's prime
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem