Now once there was a story of a plight,
Of a man that spoke of great fright.
He stood on the corner
Like a small stature mourner
And made sure that he struck up a sight.
He stood and deluded
The mind, and alluded
Of a time where there would be terror.
So he spoke of the secular
And the dissipation was spectacular
For his crowd had spotted his error.
For although he was crude
And also quite rude
This small stature dude
Was also stark nude.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your poem. It made me feel all warm a tingly inside. I keep reading it, and now I know the words off-by heart. Love your work. xoxoxoxoxxox :)