Grief, you kick me when I'm already down
Although I haven't teased or gazed at you
And you etch on my weary face a frown
That I hate to display at the bayou.
Grief, you're a vengeful taskmaster
That slaps everybody, children and women
Despite obeying the headmaster
And brushing aside the bad omen.
Grief, you visit everyone, every time, every home
Where you split family members asunder
With your bag of tricks and a tome
Of twisted advice that leads to a costly blunder.
Grief, people shiver when you appear
To whip them, to inflict pain and blues
On innocent people who cry and fear
And drink for comfort vats of bitter brews.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem