Oh sweet Jesus
Seeing you forces me
to shed my monk habit
and flagellate to hell
No wonder a habit
does not make a holy man
when a sweet nun like you
hides beneath it
It makes me cast off
all my good intentions
wanting to plow your mouth
as if it were holy ground
and the more I dip
my fingers in holy waters
the more
my evil intents trickle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem