All you players
who play the blues
play, play
play the sad news.
The minor chords
will take you down low.
Let the sax wail
and the trumpet blow.
Listen and lament with
that licorice stick,
all you lovers
sad and heartsick.
Let it all out boys.
Play, play, play.
Those tearful lovers
hear what you say.
They hear those blues
and they feel it too.
It will let their tears fall
like no other notes can do.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem