Strained was my vision
So off to the optician
Who did a proper job
Poked around
With this and that
Mechanical pen light
Looked up and down
Side to side
Left and right
Saw some charts
All blurred
Then I became scared
When I looked into a box
With protruding lights
A sharp blast of wind
That blinded me outright
With all this done
And I became ready to run
Here sir!
‘The finest lenses polished with sand
Eager to try them out
I put them on
Felt a proper lout
I looked into a mirror
Suddenly my face went all a quiver
And hair began to spout
From my ears
Shoulders and chest
As I looked more
I turned into a horse
They brought me some hay
Said now go away
So off I went
Not happy at all
Off home with glasses in tow
When there
Found it hard
To go with the flow
But managed to sit and stare
Wide eyed
Like stallion mare
At things
I couldn’t see before
Then I became aware
This wasn’t real for sure
Something has gone wrong
In all those tests
These glasses
Giving me unrest
Tomorrow I returned
Wearing glasses by Lucifer
Walked in the shop
And fainted.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem