G-rime serves no purpose,
I-t instead makes you gray;
N-ever touch the dirt,
A-ugust twenty-sixth Saturday.
L-ies will never please
Y-our ears and your mind;
N-ever listen to them, though they sound sweet and kind.
B-ed of roses of the sinner
U-ses not the fragrant scent;
E-very iniquity is
N-either use nor
O-rnament.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem