My wife the philosopher, knows most all
Whenever I have a question, she uses common sense
If logic doesn't provide an answer
Her instincts and insight cut to the core
Discards the superflous
Undresses the problem, gets to the crux
Simplifies, what seemed complex
Reduces me to a pompous bore
And I feel pompous that i dared to question
What is so obvious
Whenever I say Aristotle said
She says her grandmother said it better
And Plato was such an arrogant dreamer
Socrates so imparactical
Often when I quote a philosopher
With esteem and wonder, she cuts me down
With philosophers are mostly only men
And any mother would know better
Says poor Nietzsche needed love
I had better not quote her of what she says of
Sophia, who is mouthed by ony men
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
All women are she, all shes are not women