Inside there is no filth
Just a lil'o stealth
No stenches like outside
Just seemingly peace on the inside
Things go on as in a palace
Everything in the right place
And all had enough space
To play and think as they please
But Alas! Very few enjoy
The peace to begin a foy
Although each had a toy
The girl lost his to the big boy
How beautiful the children!
They laughed and smiled often
Until you hear of their omen
Their parents did their beauty abandon
The women in the home
Have almost lost their dome
They never know the comb
And some of them weirdly groan
Such a sight moves
Pharaoh's soul to teary groves
What is in the World's gloves!
That he who has least loves?
If you can, decipher
If you can', refer
When you can, infer
When you can', don't defer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
niaje my broder? a poet is what describe, creativity is what i diagonise and poems is my prescription.