oh little bug, oh little bug.
what is it that you do?
you fly so high, swim so deep, and bask in the morning dew.
yet through all your adventure, all that you do,
why, OH why,
must you be the stinkbug in my shoe?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Charles Bukowskis 2 flies reminds me of this for some strange reason, the difference is yours is shorter and a lot more funnier, though at the same time also despairing in that last line. Still a really fun work and great read.