A poet nicknamed Hazelbutt
was sick inside his hazelgut.
It seems he swallowed too much pride,
it seeped as sewage through his hide.
A poet though he sure was not.
Some men will suffer from neurosis
in others this will be psychosis.
Though in their brains are purple beans
they interfere with dopamines.
But they can wish for apoptosis.
A portion of sheer jealousy
will always cause some misery.
When envy makes the soul commit
what decent folks would know as shit,
you must look at his pedigree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem