the eleventh month of the year,
the month of very late fall,
the month where the leaves are falling,
and the trees are becoming bear,
and the month of Thanksgiving,
that celebrates the union
between the Pilgrims and the Native American tribe,
that taught them how to survive,
and Squanto who taught them many things,
and the month of all the saints,
in the feast of All Saints' Day,
and the month of all of the souls,
in the feast of All Soul's Day,
and the month where the Detroit Lions
get creamed every year they play,
and the month when the first snowfall comes,
and makes everyone slightly unhappy.
yet, it's the month of turkey,
and it works entirely,
for 'tis Thanksgiving, and 'tis a great month.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem