Half A Stout, Please! Poem by Stefania Paluzzi
Half A Stout, Please!
So let’s imagine Bloom
the Mister one
counting the heads at the funeral
like an Ulysses from the abyss of a dawn
his voice would whisper
the secret joy of being alive
among half-naked napes
and certainly nowadays
it’d be a Guinness too, right HIM
at a pub’s counter
while cheering his centuries of good fortune
among the dead
on the dark wings of a beer tune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 4:21:04 PM # 1.0.0.1119
