at the back of conventional teenage,
came in, the breakthrough..
why not try my hand at the sixth finger?
the knight marched, for the act of valour...
the thickest of coins was tossed, along with another,
coinciding in figures, with the number of cigars..
it was wills preffered, for the will of two...
wondering which end to light..
glanced the counterpart to the right..
got the key to the new world..
lips kissed it, to take on a puff..
to smoke out was really tough..
at the end, i became a maestro..
turned all into ash like fidel castro....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
beautiful way of expressing those few moments spent with the 'sixth finger'....awesome! ! ! !