Hurried through the night,
Of games and dames' flight
Whooping on the ledge,
Semantics of an old adage
Slides on the bricks,
Whipping like sharp pricks
But suddenly alighted down,
From its station town
A crispy sigh of relief;
'It's ok now, Chief! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fun to read, Edgar. Thanks for sharing