He was forever in a quandary
While doing the weekly laundry
The soap didn’t bubble
As he stroked his stubble
The bleach didn’t do its job
He felt like he’d been robbed
Then the washer quit working
It appeared to be smirking
Then he saw a poetic sign
This made him feel fine
He put his laundry in a bag
Treating his quandary as a gag
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem