Neither did I fret nor was I grim
When, with words, I tried to limn
Insolent adjectives oddly phrased
In my mind's clandestine xeriscape.
Nevertheless, I did forage through,
Rearranged predicates gone askew,
My lexicon of utterances renewed,
Purple vernacular meant to amuse.
Stanzas rain down and nothing dim:
A xerothermic page is now a hymn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem