The guests I had called-
had come to eat,
And all what i made was so sweet.
First came the starter-
Which was like a platter.
And then came the silly soup-
which was a bit chilly.
Then came the main course-
And all came with force.
The curries I had made-
They had with no worries.
The pancakes on the table-
Went off like hot-cakes.
Then comes the sweet-
And all wanted to lose weight.
Looking at the moon-
They just had a spoon.
And with the night fall-
They all went off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
good one i m one among those elite guests who tasted ur delicacies u r not only a good poet but also a good cook well done yamini