Mulligan moans, Sinatra groans
From the record player
How can I write my minds sight
The record’s the poem’s slayer
It kills the thought that moves the quill
But, yet one thought lives through
And that one says I always will,
Love you, Love you, Love you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
TERRY, NICE POEM, GREAT POINTS..................