Why is that quinsy’s mouth red like fire?
Isn’t it because it’s chewing betel?
Let the new fiancée of my father
Hurry up so they can meet each other
He’ll extend to her a hearty welcome,
Welcome her with rice, he will not hit her.
It’s my mother who will poke her eyes out,
She will rip the guts out of her stomach.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem