Walking down the great hall.
Twin curved round balls.
Well rounded calf muscle and strong thigh and tall.
The hiking of skirts not seen by all.
Pink lips they drink from pink clouds,
dark heavy skies and blue clouds.
Full is the rumble and throaty the roar,
coming in through the back door.
Coming back for more pie, as it pulls up fast one striped flag.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem