I've never understood those bores
who flash at me their middle digit.
And say, ungracefully, 'up yours'
while keeping their small digit rigid.
So, do they want me on all fours?
I do suspect they own a midget,
perhaps afflicted with small sores?
Vulgarity is often frigid
which presupposes bolted doors.
My friends, I own a double-digit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this very much Herbert. This rhyming scheme is great and there are no obvious rhymes. I still like rhyme, even if my own approach doesn't adopt it. Some may look down on it, but I think that it still has a lot more to it. This poem being a case in point.