Unsuspecting Poem by Jean Toomer
Unsuspecting
There is a natty kind of mind
That slicks its thoughts,
Culls its oughts,
Trims its views,
Prunes its trues,
And never suspects it is a rind.
'' There is a natty kind of mind That slicks its thoughts, [..] And never suspects it is a rind.'' quick-witted.. :) - In Italian: '' C'è un tipo di mente azzimata Che impomata i suoi pensieri, [..] E mai sospetta d'essere una crosta.''
The rinds I don't mind. It's their behinds I find are behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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1/18/2025 1:19:41 AM # 1.0.0
Kill me please please kill me