He filled a washing-up bowl
With jelly mould
And water from a jug,
Put in his feet.
The mix complete,
And gave a little shrug.
He had one last look
At his favourite book -
Shakespeare's play, Macbeth -
Then closed his eyes,
Met his demise
By wobbling himself to death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
interesting writing style. Best wishes, Jessica Hepner