Beginning of something, per chance I say
Not this way, but any other time
I can salvage, minutes from hours
Days into, nights of floundering
Do this but once, twice, thrice
I am consulting agent, royally
Take into and spit out, what's known
The times are upon us for stitching.
There shall be no trace
Of
My
Needs
“No more! ” said the prize-dog.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem