The son of that fine lady,
Has ruined her strong heart,
To palpitate as a fast drum,
To be awake and wonder until dawn,
To sleep when she goes to work,
To yawn when the speech is heard,
To think that she is the prettiest,
To fight with the concerned individuals,
The handsome son of that old lady,
has ruined the heart of this young lady,
who behaves as if she is possessed,
Laughs to the screens of all gadgets,
Wears the wrong sandals that not cooperate,
Thinks that she is the sole occupant,
Of the people less glamorous universe,
Her face resembles the solitary bud,
When she is alone with the parents,
But blooms as the colorful hibiscus,
The moment the son of that lady arrives.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'tis a good write! ! ! ! ! !