Díscontent is the man in a plaster caste,
bench-watching runners passing in the park.
Complaining to all, of his misfortune,
as the tanned athletes exercise and stride out,
’til a wheelchair child smiles by.
Díscontent is a big fish in the rock-pool.
In his bad-tempered desiring of the open ocean,
he bullies and butts the small fry.
A springtide wave washed him out into
the deep blue where he saw his first and last
Great White.
If díscontent is left unchecked,
life’s reality will bring swift redress.
After all, no-one pisses pinotage!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Even doper! Good work my man.