Weekend illustrations junglin' precarious seabreezy elements
something in his heart was claimed in tiny fragments
strolling to comprehend what is due
this sensational deja vu in the pulsatin rue
Whisperin do re mi sonatas like a lunacious rover
who am i kiddin, music is hidden in a wooden case somewhere in Dover
Mean Mr.Mustard though was sleepin in a hole on the road
had no means to regret the goals of his emotional load
Masqueradin Nostradamus in the Praguian bridges
it was summer and after a while somewhere i saw Jeff Bridges
and i shouted dude but he didnt reply
maybe he was too shy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem