Many women on tracks, Beautiful to anchor, Trees to bear, Yet my wretch soul run amiss. Seriously confused, paranoid! But a torch came to my rescue. As an angel zero it down to my heart. There inclined with my passport in hand. Poor me, I thought I was done! Roll me brethren, the drum, For the moment, Let's celebrate!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem