One day, she looks at her husband
And the fire's gone out.
Next, it's the house sale,
Splitting up the assets.
What to do about the table?
Like a Rubik cube,
It's solidly interlocked
The table looks at her
She looks at the axe
The husband loves that table
‘Take it! ' he says. ‘It's yours..'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem