Keep your jeep, trip and pip
To yourself for I'm tired of tied treasures
That lie ahead as my head and bed weep
Meanwhile when no file of smiles for miles measures
Seizures in which sorrow tomorrow and today
Appear to disappear
As I can no longer pledge or wage a day
When in a clear canon a peer
Would, could and should with a good
Conscience and patience
Confess in my office a brood of food withstood
So much pressure to the restore so much store of balance and tolerance in advance
When in a reign and vein devoid of strain
A drop and dollop of hope
Surged South and urged the lane
Of the train that strained my rain in vain to bannish a dish of dull dope.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well written in a quatrain of 4 stanzas. Effective use of the alternate rhyme scheme pattern. Sylva