useta be afraid of celeriac
...that's when I didn't know my roots....
found meself a-baga'n at the doors of institutes...
then it came...not just a flash....but, yet, 'twas in a pan....
all answers seemed to turn up.....windows ope'd...there IS a plan! !
not a carrot have I... I sing, I dance....cavort....
I dig these lovelies from the earth....ecstasy...petite mort! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem