I wonder if lasses listen
When they surrender to players
Who urge them pleasure to hasten
Until their fate lies in freckles of sordid slayers.
I wonder if cabs care
When they ferry thieves
Who fret to fork out their fare
Until bandits brandish knives.
I wonder if pulses pound
When they prick like daggers
Which glorify gangsters on the ground
Until a gardener on groggy groins staggers.
I wonder if lads love
When they coerce lasses to compromise
Their precious prize from above
Until roses reap a sleazy surprise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem