humanities not all it's cracked up to be
the hangover of last nights debauch hangs heavy,
the Muse grins in the corner smug
teetering between satisfaction and pain, great night I think,
intoxication is not alcoholic, no food, too much of,
a metaphorical surfeit of lampreys
but I survived unlike king John, what ever happened to him?
maybe if he'd had coffee he would have made it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem