Ironic Hate Poem by samuel nze
Ironic Hate
Speedily he comes
And goes slowly
Like the mist
Of the morning.
Let's sing him a song
Let's cook him a meal
Let's bathe him in oil
Let's cool him in wine.
Uppity miser
Careful poet
Shrewd minister
Ugly witch.
Let's fear them
Run for your life
If they catch you
Don't say you saw me.
My mother is a witch
I discovered yesterday
My father is a miser
I knew long ago.
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 1:01:12 AM # 1.0.0.1119
