A hot teapot called a cute kettle black
The kettle rebuffed the flavouless flak
Raising very high its temperature
Which by habit stuck to its nature and signature
Flipping off its lid at once
Cos the teapot grew dunce
Sinking deeper and deeper into depression
Although the cute kettle denied the ominous oppression
The tepid teapot could no longer bear
So polluted and convoluted grew its hair
Which got fed up with greying
The more the teapot kept straying
Sneaking into a hole where a serpent
Enjoined the teapot to repent
Or else hell would break loose
And the teapot would cry and fry in a nuisance noose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem