I have trained my lions
And slept in cop cars, Erin:
Tonight I was caracoled by no less
Than six cop cars, Erin,
Because I was robbed at gunpoint,
And some poor boy has stolen my poem
Book,
The greatest evil of the world
Set free like spilled milk somewhere in
The mothering loins
Of the grotto
When all I wanted was
To come inside just once,
Like a birthday wish,
Just the way he is
Dancing
Just.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem