There once were trapezists
Named Ned and Sue Pound,
(Although with their names
They belonged on the ground) .
In their minds and their hearts
They thought each was the best.
With flips, rolls and dives
And each acrobatic tumble
They thought to themselves,
“Lord, it’s hard to be humble.”
Their hearts became prideful
With each beat in their chest.
As each day they got better, their pride was renewed
And a net below them, disdainfully eschewed.
While true each a star as they climbed to the skies,
In their quest for more fame they forgot to surmise
That to be good trapezists,
One catches, one flies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem