It would almost be nirvana to spend hours of my day,
after walking through a sultry savanna,
to see and hear the huntress, Diana,
performing with one hand on her piana,
wearing nothing but a gray and white polka-dot bandanna.
In the other hand she is holding a banana from Havana,
and waving and smiling at me.
It is easy to see that she is no he.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem