Take cracked white powder, blend it with cracked rouge,
hide the hard lines of age that map your hard pink skin.
Shave your legs slowly, from long ankle, to long thigh,
ignore the lying veins, skipping around the mirror of truth.
Fasten up tightly, push, pull, pout and pronounce it is time,
take a deep breath and plunder outside, into the cold dank night.
Enter a room where the lights are slung low and the music slung high,
guard your mad conscience from ever believing, it is all just a mad, mad, mad masquerade.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem