I need, my sweet, a mobile phone.
For you of course, for you alone.
Perhaps a satellite with all its trim,
so I can reach you at, the slightest whim.
There are those pityboys and jealous birds
who'd like to jeopardise those precious words.
So, would you stick with me, stay very close
it is your specialty, Ear, Throat and Nose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem