Some times I wonder,
What good does it do, to be a simple fool?
In utter love, truthful, and yet be nude despite all ridicule?
It surely does not pay, you are a living testimony my darling,
Do not now show a volte face.
But I am was and will remain a eternal innocent fool,
If born again, because of the foolish minds,
I will choose to be the fovea of your fool,
The spot of your focus, not of your ridicule,
Where you lost your self to my eternal self in nude,
And came to me, nude, utterly nude, no play boy bunny
Can compete your salty hue,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem