The evening heaven’s restaurant activates, you’re among the last
Who line up outside, making discoveries with food in the mouth,
I’d go slow on the fritters cooked from days and nights in experience
Paid by the engineers of food, a real motley crew.
Jump a few million years ahead, all because of the husband,
Then trek to pursue an animal of a larger variety
As big as our dog, the very wonderful diplomatic creature.
Nostalgic for the years when you certainly paid for the best,
We talk and converse in the signs of an alien animal or spirit,
Finding food fun since the year out.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem