I now pay in brighter coins
and for every time that I do belong
I now weigh in fairer tons
go and tell aisha the deed's been done
I will sing on lighter notes
when I finally make it home
from the coast in a sailing boat
and this is weekend in its tone
And for your goodness
as well as for your kind works
addressing her is what I do
regardless of all your efforts
And if you could do that
in all your raging history
I would write to you a promise
this means if you did that
that means if you told a story
a story of juxtaposing
a story of why I'm waning
a story of why I'm crazy
a story of why I got shut off
each time I try to make a sentence
See, just meddle your ears
until you are old enough to trim your beards
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem