It brought him hope, he thought.
With all the tricks he sought
To have the other bought.
Now facing stress, he fought
The troubles his lie brought.
The trouble now he’s got,
Lying uptight on his cot.
Thoughts of his name to pot.
Trapped he makes a shot
On how he could trot.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem