How bittersweet
the blessing of conversation
the burden of brief titillation
the unrelenting dullards
that quicken the clock
with well-rehearsed smiles
and uneasy verse;
how bittersweet the belt
with which to whip me
until I bleed green
and trudge to the font
to begrudgingly spill my
saccharine words
before the baying, paying crowd.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem