Hitchin' a ride,
with the devil inside,
on a hot and dusty trail.
When he spoke,
my thoughts he invoked,
my insides bewail.
The more I ignored him,
his wrath did begin,
with visions of things that may be.
So I opened my shirt,
his suffering can't hurt,
because this creature is of Gods free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem