The water is boiling, slowly turning to vapor.
Everyone's up, ready to chase the paper.
He goes to dribble a football, the player,
She has to go for practice, the pro skater,
Time for some basketball, the gifted Laker.
She farms in her fertile land, it's an acre,
He gotta make bread, the sweet baker,
We all are real beings, no damn faker,
We celebrate our successes, no hater,
Don't rob, just take what's yours, it's safer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well versed.flowing rhythm