Crested waves slapped me upon the headily right...
Temp-led fashioned wetly a fright, that night.
Hurricanes recaptured...
Made my hips well fractured.
Now I walk with a limp...
All my pockets overflowing
with sardines and shrimp.
Inside the wharf's pub had I entered....
To consummate a dizzying, alcohol's
inward mouthy breathing.
Hangover's trips....
Blamed on too many sips.
I forgot my wedded anniversary...
Should this qualify me as totally, self centered?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem