Shocked, back to Bedlam he fled,
after having tasted Valsa's fine fist.
His mouth was sore and how it bled!
NEXT, she might break his damn wrist!
'Let me in', the poor fellow bellowed out.
“There's a woman out here (not quite stout)
who's beaten me bloody with ringed-fingers,
and she's not leaving just yet; STILL she lingers! ”
A uniformed guard then answered his loud bellowing
[the man’s face was red and purple, not quite yellowing],
and the pugilistic woman came strutting up to Bedlam’s gate.
She said to the guard: “Hey Freddie, let me back in, if not too late.”
The big guard raised his eyebrows, glancing from “him” to “her”, and said:
“Valsa, we wondered where you had disappeared to. I see your fist is still like lead.
Come inside my dear and let this gentleman be off; he’s lucky, you know, he’s not dead! ”
So Valsa took the hand that “Freddie” offered and, quite changed it seemed, she was led to bed.
(March 14, 2015)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem