Life isn't a limpid loaf of poetry factory
Where asinine assonance and corny consonance
Cohabit, cooperate to mutter, to mumble a history
Tinged with mundane misery and notorious nuisance
Perpetrated by a vivid void
Fed five times a day, fifty times
A month in an odious ovoid
Filled with muffled, mute mimes
Too loud on a cloud, too proud to apologise
When innocent Inuits
Enjoin pacific people to realize, to epitomise
The necessity for Swiss seats
To scram, scramble, stumble, salvage stability and welcome
Thinkers who clink gory glasses with dream drinkers
Who propose a Tequila toast without a bouncy boast and come
In peace to forgive weird winkers.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem