Thoth concocted her
from his three
favorite adjectives.
Calefactory.
Harumscarum.
Mordacious.
Each of these,
magnified by the others,
sculpts her.
She is the messiah
whom your parents
once crucified.
Her heart is a
magical blue ice,
the frozen tears
of saints.
Her lips are more sensuous
than two copperheads in heat.
Her eyes, two wise blue wounds
which never close, were stolen
from an eagle.
She eats only Spam.
She speaks Urdu, Sanskrit,
and Aramaic.
Made from three words,
yet known by three dozen names.
Pity that none will ever be hers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Awesome, dude! You must have been on acid when you wrote this!