at last it is cooked
and in perfect state
taste and smell
to be served to the Lord
and ho my god, everybody is
enlightened, me, the angels
and of course the king
it takes almost an eternity to cook
he puts the perfect piece in his mouth
and wow his eyes almost pop out
ours too
after the 10th piece of the glory
he says he really longs for that first perfect
which melts his soul
'anymore? ' he asks
'that's the purpose of that piece, ' we say
'for perfect remembrance.
to be cherished at heart. it
took us 50 years to cook.'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem