Morning wine
I had wine before dine
My first thing in morning
Rooted in Vietnam,
Imported at war end
Landed in Canada.
Bird outside sings sad song
Somebody must be lost…
Homeless then, settled now
Knows the pain of homeless
“Bring him to my house, ”
Says the ex, about lost.
I need to gulp such wine
It makes me drunk-divine.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem