There's a street corner, where the little ants march
Down to the donut shop, under the arch;
And there's a patio, where dreamy diners chew,
And drink from crystal glasses, as dreamy diners do.
And there's some newlyweds, high up in a room,
Doing some things, you and I would never do;
He drowned her in the bathtub- drinking herself drunk-
And rolled her in a blanket, and stuffed her in a trunk.
And now the ants are coming, they've smelt her on the wind,
A large feast for the taking is coming soon to them,
While diners on the patio keep sniffing the air,
Wondering if some roadkill must be about there?
Now he's on the prowl again, looking for the girl,
The one who's truly perfect; most perfect in the world-
Someday he knows he'll find her, and he'll forget the rest.
But he must keep on trying, till he's sure he's found the best.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hey there my great friend.... I sure hope he just keeps on going past your town. And those poor ants, seem like they are always working so hard to get something to eat...ha, ha... I enjoyed your work in terror.... but it is scarry.... They need to catch this fella quick....