'Of his diete mesurable was he,
For it was of no superfluitee,
But of greet norissyng and digestible.'
(Chaucer, Cant. T., Gen. Prol., I.435-437.)
At what I am about to write
I don't intend to start a fight;
Although the atmosphere is tense,
To me it seems like common sense.
The more you eat, the more you weigh —
He risks his life who so should say.
Or if you eat a lot, then you
Must do some exercises too.
No longer can I keep quiet
About this nonsense 'diet' —
You have a liver to detoxify you.
You all should take some care
That water, sleep, fresh air,
Do not conspire together to defy you.
(Tuesday,3rd January,2006.)
[2006: 1]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh.........if only it were that easy! You make it sound so simple David. Good poem. sincerely, Mary