....and thus it came to pass,
the one they called the 'village idiot',
a gentle, friendly, somewhat pudgy
but always smiling growing teen.
They had deprived him of O-two
the oxygen his body needed
when he was born in that small house.
One day, the constable was making
his usual rounds through dusty streets,
he heard a the words 'you village idiot',
so loudly uttered by a round
and quite colossal hunk of jello,
'I should not think in those mean terms',
he told himself, but then again,
it helped him with his vital duties.
Now, quite annoyed that someone would
use this foul language here today,
he placed his cuffs around her wrists
took her away into the jail.
The judge found that the term was not,
as people had assumed them lately,
correct in useage so he found
the tub of lard so very guilty
(that's how he thought of her inside) ,
and on that sunny day in May
he threw the book of rules at her,
which landed on her eighteen chins
and spun her on her hefty heels
right into jail for her comeuppance.
She never knew and never learned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem