But mother, I am always fine
and yes, I did receive the wine
your package came on Monday night
the gift was wonderful, just right.
You asked re spirits and my health
and whether I am gaining wealth.
The latter has been quite elusive
the former always is inclusive.
You see those spirits keep me well
as any doctor sure could tell
he is a loser who assumes
that man should live without the fumes
of what those little tiny beasts
called ethanol-producing yeasts
with diligence in many hours
create, to make me smell the flowers.
I know that you and Dad are crazy
retired, ignorant and lazy.
You disapprove of me, your girl
your once adored and pretty pearl.
My boss is from the same old block
a stuffy, stoic, dimwit cock.
He could not see the worth of me
called me a constant absentée.
The cops who took my car away
just wanted me to pay and pay
their fines and even for the towing
the judge himself was so all-knowing.
My landlord cannot wait a week
for rent, the future there looks bleak.
It's not my fault though, mother dear
and don't believe what you may hear.
I'm ill and drinking is my lot
my mind directs and I am not
at leisure to curtail the booze,
it isn't something that I choose.
The gods have given me the genes
that had me drinking in my teens.
And now, at thirty it is you
who sends me purple vineyard brew? !
How can I get my life in order
when brain cells call, like a recorder
to feed them quickly firewater?
I'm asking you! Your loving daughter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem