The bride and the bridegroom exchange the rings
While an invitee comes and introduced himself as 'Muscovite.'
Then the bride's father a Middleman who's never been to a school inquired; 'A strange name.'
'Sorry, I am from Moscow.'
'Oh! That sounds good and we can do cow business.'
Then he replied angrily; ' Yes, you can import cow and export donkeys.'
* I think of damned politics in my tiny island Sri Lanka. Freedom of expression goes for a song nowadays and I heard that innocent journalists are missing again, is this the democrazy?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem