Gonna roll me a reefer,
and smoke the past goodbye
Gonna empty that last bottle of gin,
and kick this bye and bye
Gonna drink that woman away, Lord,
if I have to turn to rum
Gonna smoke that reefer till my fingers burn
—her memory on the run
(Villanova University Vespers: June,2019)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem