I am sometimes more or less politically;
and being astute, I hate then the liars!
This makes me more...never less a fool,
when I need mine, your rights confirmed.
I cannot fathom course silk made from cotton,
when the worm takes one and hangs to form
from the other and hording it's face in both.
Your Honor and Judge and I cannot release
trust.......too......
that face I did turn to...while judgement...gave
that trust to an addict....your wrath I lived...
while such knowledge, was known around..
Camelot............and hewn trust away...
and that poppy did bloom with incouragement....
with the blessing of whom...prey tell I ask...
and Wants being simple to thus do I plead.....
and with this to your ear...by my lips....
I only want, what you would then want, being you....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem