Beads of sweat run down my body
Permeating my every pore
Puncturing the fat on my belly
That I so fervently abhor.
Three months have I labored on this task,
And I grow weary of it as of late.
My bones are tired and so is my back,
I am inclined to accept my obese fate.
Will others be as lenient in judging as I,
Who no longer needs to lose weight?
Or will they scowl at me as I pass by?
And on my flabby face insults they grate.
No, I will not give them the satisfaction
I will bathe in sweat and suffer no frustration.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem