Alma
You are specialist
You an academic
You go to library
You, a dictionary
An apple, English
Manzana, Spanish
It’s Toffah Arabic
In Farsi saying sib
An Alma, Turkish
I confess; you know
Approve you, aware
But I
I know apple’s taste
When’s unripe-green
When fallen off tree
In winter that smells
Is your word capable; telling me how it tastes?
Take your books and schools.
Go to hell where you deserve.
You’re free to call me “Crazy”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem