Deciding to feast on my dozing head
Meant waking me up, and winding up dead
My standard reaction when bit on the noggin'
Is to retaliate with a vigorous flogging
Upset, disoriented, near-sighted, and sore
Crouched in my underwear at a quarter to four
If you hadn't buzzed about my ear
I'd still be asleep and you'd still be here
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sleep made an alliance with the mosquito against us.