You only wanted some tattered part of my hat;
I vain, I couldn't blame your two lips, what is that?
More than done, I still wanted you to use me then,
But lost I was, you too in some dream tiger's den.
You could have at least falsified the real mccoy,
So in the mirror gazing back…your dream boy,
But you had such an eyeball and that motor thing,
Hungry mouth, but I was just a roundabout fling.
Oh! We had our fun, upstairs laboratory loft;
Sneaking one another's flanks and turning back soft,
And tumble down I did while we were fun gushing,
Why did I not leave as is? 'twas my heart rushing.
Now that long ago peruse….thirty something nights,
I kicking at serious— what could have been right,
Love had its blinders, at least a curious spring,
Up am I a ravenous hill remembering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I kicking at serious— what could have been right, Love had its blinders, at least a curious spring, Up am I a ravenous hill remembering.....nicely Penned