You never seemed at their times
A positive proof of happiness;
Wishes were neighbours of my father’s youth,
With its bad contrivances and mistaken acts.
What is more miserable? The backing of a mum
Or the fury of a father?
My ritual of slashing the meat
With a knife, forced me to kick and punch
In the name of self-defence.
It kept up the law,
The favourite realms became polished verse,
Their nonsense was to the view.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem