My dairyman is a crustacean of milk,
The crystals enjoined on him are like silk.
My dairyman is a soldier of liquid,
Once I grab the bottle I contacted.
Mine is the sword so much dagger,
I have abhorred the activity of an adaptor.
This is milk of the highest standard,
Drinking this fluid is best adventured.
Inside we speak so loud of the man with cheese,
Cheeses spend us with wine and abnormalities;
Actually us, actually us are fond of a distance,
The wincing happens with assistance.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem