Absinthe made his heart grow fonder
of the frail blonde Lord of his same gender.
The Marquis of Queensbury, who always fought dirty,
thought Oscar a lightweight both flighty and flirty.
The Victorian age thought Gay love was a shame
and called it the” Love that dared not speak its name.”
They threw Oscar in prison for loving a man
And he never saw his own two children again.
Where before he’d be worshipped for his style and his wit
Prison had changed him much more than a bit.
He could no longer write comedy in his usual style.
So he left London for Paris to Sojourn a while.
Oscar Wilde was a man who loved Women and Men
He made a good living with the nib of his pen.
He died as the century was turning the page:
the pride of old Erin, a wit and a sage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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