I'm tired and through
with your overbearing omega's
your endless epsilons
and your detracting deltas
Your equals your arrows
Your conversions with answers
so narrow, shooting down
My hope my sparrow
Broad is the view I desire
Unmundane greatness, for what I aspire
As your Greek letters attempt a mire
I'll turn my head and hold a lite match to the wire
Turn it once more to see you consumed in fire
And at the top of my lungs I'll shout 'liar'
And view your defeat in your own Greek letter funeral pyre
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
what's the matter? you don't like your math teacher? you misspelled 'shout'. Unmundane Greatness? How do you think we took flight? Went to the moon? Fly to the other side of the planet in 12 hours? Science and Math my son. Nothing mundane or boring about what the achievements of these two disciplines. Without them, we'd all still be living in caves when just getting a fire started was the difference between living through the night or giving up the ghost. It is as always a beautifully written verse on your part and I always enjoy your writings. Keep up the great work son.