some days some men
give me hell
and that's when
I get angry and tell
them to go
back into the womb
in which the did grow
or easier still into a tomb
and leave me be
but I see
there are rare days
when a woman with a stern gaze
plays beethoven's the wolf
on my nerves
and my pride deserts me
rhyme and reason
abandon me to the vulgarities of the profane
and I'n left tremling
and a little less sane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem