I don't dislike them,
The tombstones round
The church,
Of Woolscombe, and Tebbit,
And Mrs Yeatman.
I knew a Mr Yeatman once,
Bank Manager,
Not easy to talk to,
Tight on overdrafts.
Money's tight right now,
But I saw my boys last night
In London,
A cheap Thai meal
And talk of ISIS.
They left for Brixton
And Brockley,
And I dreamed on the train
That I might die
If it weren't for them,
The heartbeats of my life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An astute observation on what it is to be a father.