Karen wants her document, June will check it,
I will translate it, looking up every term, saw a
baby at lunchtime running away, with a bubbly
nanny chasing, I knew it was a moment of
epiphany, once again my happy schemes
foiled, my desired demise deferred by myself,
at this rate, I’ll be living until a hundred and
ten – what an awful prospect, hope I can die
peacefully in my bed and wake up in the astral
realm, surrounded by the golden light of love
such as the mediums say – if not, I’ll be back
and hound them to death - the whole lot!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem