I'm stretching it a bit
When I write my nonsense wit
And I write as I enjoy it
Never seeking to destroy it
The words flow as a stream
And sometimes are extreme
I have held them in a dream
Until it's not all that it seems
So, in all my many rhymes
I slip up from time to time
And my poems get censored by the hunter
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem