The princess
I don`t understand the British
when Diana died the county went into an unseemly
mourning a mass hysteria of grief.
She was divorced for a little shit called Charles
they had two sons who are both going bald.
I didn`t think much of her going on holidays living
The kids at home, if a working-class mother had
done this the social people would have knocked
on the door.
Diana took up living with an Arab and Charles
married a horse, hadn`t she died she would
by now giving hampers to the wealthy at Christmas.
And no one would have called her
a people's princess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem