My hair is long and thick and curly,
So twisted that each inch seems less.
Not like some locks that are just whirly.
A tight and independent mess.
Short hair does show conformity,
And I am not against such things,
I am no careless, stupid hippy,
But this hair clearly to me clings.
If Milton were alive today,
Or Blake, though mad he may have been.
Would they take a blade and cut away?
Would they brush and pluck and preen?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem