Twenty four seven,
Joy asks for your hand
To hike your brand
By handing you enough rand
So you can land in Rio Grand.
Twenty four seven,
Your heart blood pumps
As white cell gun jumps,
Foreign matter it thumps
While it softens bumps.
Twenty four seven,
You wear sports shirt
As with girls you flirt
Though some are curt
Before you they hurt.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice rhythm, keep on writing!