You place me daily on your rear burner
But the heat is just the same
I watch you as you go and come
I play your little game
From time to time you glance my way
Make sure I'm still on low
I sometimes even spiff and sputter
That gets your ears, I know
My minutes in this game are numbered
Then I'll join the crowd
I'll first turn black then brown and sweet
If I'm Colombian, I can't be beat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem