I strummed the strings of my satirical sitar Poem by Martín Gambarotta
I strummed the strings of my satirical sitar
I strummed the strings of my satirical sitar
until an incurable headache began
to dance to the beat of a nasty little waltz
on the lid of my brain, turning my
grey matter into a mush like that of a
senator whose head fell
into his plate of spaghetti. I strummed
I strummed that sitar until, but I swear
by my days as a Rastafarian
that this won't happen again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/6/2026 7:51:45 AM # rel_20260803T153344Z_4267e77
