Soil upon soil
more soil upon soil
makes a heap
soft and silky
under my ribs
crimson red
in it flows five litters neat
red liquid
out and in
pure impure
mixed
if you are a war monger
rotten and sick
you may sip it hot
at your breakfast
or drink it as cold beverage
after your supper
for your better health
and sound sleep
even you can lick it
like an ice- cream
what you just need are
either a tomahawk
or an F-16
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem