A ceramic mould of lime green
I bought once observing it keen,
Broken in the same line as of old
One, so I experience the melancholy
Yet again in a short while which is cold,
I am of a kind who considers many as holy
This act of imbecility is a stupor that is glum,
As tribute to the spiflicated article I’m gonna keep mum,
So that this moment will inscribe that I should not repeat
The error once engendered and I’ll listen to the inner beat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem