The comedy is the hobby,
Wool guides us in clothes
To be the chair of worry.
On eating berries, a careful man
Causes us to stir inside our yacht.
One rumour has it, another fires
Like artillery with codes and truths,
The oath has been condemned by
Brothers of light who despise the
Shrimps of the palace of their cousins.
The monsters amass and die like snacks,
Balls are replacing me with hobbies,
The real cactus of the type;
The sandals are piercing the toes,
With their invention of fleas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem