My mother was a dirty spoon
My father was a knife all bright
And I was born between the morn
And the preceding night.
Shining left, not right,
A squint-eyed moon said 'Oh,
But don't you know, dear friend and foe,
How I detest it, height?
It could have been much worse
It could have been disaster
But I married a sow's ear purse and we
Lived happily ever after.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem