You have always been my hero
With your brave and sullen face
scoffing at the world
afraid of no disgrace
And scoffing at religion too
while clinging to a twig
my dear I've never seen your hair
but I won't lift up your wig
I think you must have pulled it out
but really that's ok
worry has a way of giving back
ulcers for decay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem