the soothing ointment,
balm of ego and id
worn on my sleeve,
feather of my cap
is never enough,
flows and washes,
unstintingly, the being
blown up,
all out of proportions
bursting out
of all dimensions
doting on the satilites
soon does deeds
satisfying those needs
tickling of the elbow
insensitive,
fragile funny bone
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
haha! ! very nice...........