Feel my legs…
Bitter pills to swallow china cased.
64-tanks are holes with aces.
Actions speak as bloody tanks.’
Feel the coldness feed a draft.
All against the clocks we die.
All will feel the cheap on wires.
Feel the joys as we are one.
Feel my legs as we are some.
Fierce fighting chances are so.
Shall we live as finite combs? .
64-tanks will fight us out.
Filled refilled are bloody hours.
China logos finish the strokes.
First off traders time the crowns.
Office colludes are all so bounds.
Face the music all are rounds.
China face the music got.
Rub with elbows go to most.
Morals ventured out on ices.
Rubber checks are friendly eyes.
---Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3---
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem