searching
for an adversary
had
taken on a green canary
and
once again was forced to see
that
mine's a field, nor one of glee
yet
craving sizzles, bumps and thumps
did
take that whip from rump to rump
as
time wore on,
had
made a fist
....left ring
unsated, sprained a wrist...
flies, it seems,
will
come to honey
as
for
that crown
....costs more than money
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem