The party is over there's clean up to do
Eyes are tired the mess you eschew
Dirty glasses, plates galore
Furniture skewed, debris on the floor
A bed's invitation to drunken dreams
Anxiously accepting a trip up whiskey streams
Feathered throat, head bursting
Others rest I groke for sleep thirsting
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem