In more wishful ways there is abduction,
On the misty highways of Preston and its action;
Preston, that small community of doers,
Remains to be good-looking sewers.
They act to the working of a brook,
That runs away from the clearest crook.
Crooks are the main constituents of the soup,
This city of liquefied corpses and group;
The clues are set in the mud, in the mighty hazard,
As detectives ruin Preston as the place of a wizard.
The wizard is upset with bountiful magic,
He wins and spins to bless the ones who are tragic.
Crooks have been inspired by his stay, his ray
Of light shines following a consultation to say;
The incantations grow wronger, with strong tastes,
And strong skills so wanting, like the wastes.
Many have been criminal since his stay,
Might we initially brush our teeth with forte.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem