Poor Mom bought for him,
he has sold all to a second hand book-shop.
Algebra, Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Zoology,
McMilan's World Atlas and et cetera.,
He hurried to a Pub for a tranquilizer.
On his way he memorized the gypsy palm reader
who was at the book-maker's stall.
One day read his palm and told
'definitely you will be a professor in a college'.
After a few gulps, while he was returning home
passing the university,
all of a sudden shouted in the public
'where is the professor?
Oh! my poor mom's professor'.
to my friend Max Reif.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem