It for years, it's
has tried to be effluent
in the art, of the dump.
Standing up, on its side,
even upside down, when it rains.
It is about affiance though, much it is,
that brings you to the, it's big Simona.
Logs of forever, are for plumbers, yes
of course and the other, butt any way,
you know that from expedience, to swells.
It flows outwards, instead of down words,
yes many are the arts in this there are.
Remember this if nothing else,
babies go first,
while boys fly through the air, girls well,
they just kinda lay there,
untill they grow, so able to
wrestle the bottle away, under there own terms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem