I wear an old 45 record for skin.
Side A is the surface you see;
White and pale under our winter's skies,
But much darker by September.
Side A does a fine job
Keeping my entrails and offal in tact.
I like the harmony, beat and rhythm of it.
Side B of my skin is harlequin,
A melting pot of mosaic colours
You can't see,
But if you listen,
My lyric is a palette of hues.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think you would like my poems " A Brief History" and America, the Beautiful" . They have the same sentimant as this Excellent! poem