Rarely now surrounded by
or possessing herself
the genuine affection
she had grown to love,
in her cold spot
she withered further with each act
or expression
that lacked
what she called 'genuity'.
Her sense of humour started to turn on extremes.
She went to France and called her condition 'Ingennui'.
Regarding 'genuity':
the more she saw the loss of it,
the more she saw its opposite,
the more was possessed 'ingenuity'
of significance deeply composite.
good poem, present position of a language everywhere, affect of English.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A clever write Sir, the last stanza out grabe. And the new words mimsy at least. Ah the language is a ravage beast.