The telephone rang
Twice it rang
I didn't want to go
Somehow I had to go;
My country men formed
A round table for the binge
Death wrapped itself
In a slice of python's meat
And a bottle of beer
'Take the witches portion first;
Before I eat'
And wisdom conquered death
With the munitions of tradition
But the glass of beer
Shattered upon my laps
On his way to put death in my mouth
I was dead and buried
In a casket of goose pimples
For this call was not from God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very sure my friend...not from God