Twelve million miles she forgot
Swivelling in tne mornin fog
The risin walls the dragons lair
There where starts to shiver Leister square
Whoo ooo oo o
Or hand hold over head, when you lean
When images dance across the screen
At about half the storie she would guess
Perhaps a little more these confessed
To grow numb in parade
To the bathroom know. Quiet debate
Or three or four films in a row
Knockin set she would know
The never anything, the I will be you
The Elven queen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem