She has him wound up
On her little finger right
Twisted and turned
Screwed and burnt
And yet he cannot see
His own sorry plight
Endless heartburns I suffer
I am singed
I look for cover
But again tis near you
That I begin to hover
Oh that yesterday could last forever
Beckons she to him
Come hither my dear
And there you go
Wandering like a doe
Oh the power and pelf
That endears to you her dubious self
I wish for lightning to strike
Smite her out of my very sight
Smite her away into smithereens
Her evil self smashed to her spleens
And then again I refrain
Being the nicer one there is so much to gain
A lonely life
A sorrowful heart
Not everyone can deal
With this higher form of art
Tis my destiny
I have solitude for company
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lonely life A sorrowful heart Not everyone can deal With this higher form of art Tis my destiny I have solitude for company....so touching and impressive. A beautiful poem so nicely executed. Thanks for sharing.10