what i am offering you
is something organic
a glass of fermented wine
from a coconut tree
time makes it
it gives bubbles even without fire
it is riddled
the one how answers it rightly is the drunkard
a happy drunkard
one that knows what love really is
that all giving love
that all open hand
i offer you a glass
which you refuse and i am ironic
'so you are class, huh? ' you like beer,
you like red wine?
you don't drink
it is all right
nothing is wrong with thinking
that if you do not drink then
you are a nice man
you are class A
you are healthy for society had equated a drink with
drunkards
which is not the case really
(deep within think you are an idiot)
but never mind, i am still a decent man)
so how is life? how is your job?
and you begin to complain
life is hard, my job is making me a robot
i am not justifiably paid
and you begin to talk about your papa
who now lives in another house with another woman
who pleases him
your mother is a witch
a religious witch who believes on the priests rather
than the dream of a husband
i offer you again this drink
and you grab it.
nice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem