Gesundheit!
He's a mild little man,
Spindly legs and concave chest,
He'll grow hair back if he can,
Heavy meals he can't ingest,
So I bake him fish and cream,
Apples stewed and crustless bread,
And he halters in mid-stream,
Yet he rides my thorough-bred
Which you didn't quite expect
Thinking he must be a wimp;
But the last time that I checked
He was far from lax and limp:
You should stop and hear him sneeze,
Deafening and mighty he,
Shakes the circus top trapeze,
Lets the elephants out free,
Chimpanzees go flying high
With his decibels and clang
Timpani and kettles fly
Once he routs his Sturm und Drang,
Over canyons, over peaks,
Hawks rise screeching, swoosh to find
Who has changed the days to weeks
Who's so huge and unconfined,
And they find the Clark-ish-man
Searching for the umpteenth time
Glasses so that now he can
Write his verses, make them rhyme.
Super is the man whose flight
Comes from wings he ill conceals!
In his head he will ignite
What his awesome sneeze reveals.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem