I take my seat at the Golden Grove
And watch the waitress, Xu,
She's sweet and pert, and her shortened skirt
Shows off a dimple or two;
She brings the menu, a pretty smile,
I get to the "Wo xiang yao...."
But she shakes her head, before I've said
What I want, would like, or how!
She points to the meal I didn't want,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem