Naggity and Cruchity,
some old souls
you see, here and there and about
telling tales of fables and whales,
spouting parables of magic and tragic
you'll hear them groaning and moaning
of good years gone bye. sigh and lie
about the whole package deal
called life, pay them no heed
just pasture them out
without any ado
swept by the witch's broom
far into the beyond,
there they'll stay
in the land of no refunds
(For Grown Old People)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem