Eve's, I believe.
Adam's mmmm.
A cantilever problem,
Up front, that is.
Fig leaves for swimsuits in Genesis.
Later cotton was in favour
But sagged in water,
Courting disaster
Gravity taking over,
Leading to a baring of souls
And a mad scramble for towels.
Which also were handy,
If extremely sandy,
And inclined to unravel
And reveal all.
Or what little, as I recall,
After immersion in freezing water.
Maybe fig leaves were the answer,
After all.
An old fashion made new
With a dab here and there of superglue.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem