A stork was walking in the meadow,
when in the twilight something hopped.
He quickly followed that green shadow
until he caught him, then he stopped.
And was about to gulp him down,
when froggie, clever as he was,
he grabbed the pipe that travels down
the stork's front end, and, using claws,
he squeezed him tight, he could not swallow
and kept the pressure on full blast.
What happened then, if you will follow
my story: Skies were overcast,
it rained proverbial cats and dogs.
Both animals were there, still standing,
but no one knew that little frogs
do not enjoy a swallow's ending,
so he held on, the stork was choking
and tons of rains filled up his throat.
And, in the end, he started croaking.
His last words being: 'Bloody Toad'.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem