today's poem is stale tomorrow,
Nay poem of now is stale next hour,
tell me why,
it is because,
poem of one hemisphere
is useless for other,
unless it is shrouded
endlessly by encrypted symbols,
it is for your patron,
that you shall write,
who will reward you gold or silver,
poem of my village is abra cadabra
for my neighbour,
labour lost, for my brother,
Take my ten poems, give me a dinner,
let me quench my hunger,
prompt came reply, never,
from restaurant keeper,
See, the wealth maker,
I am a world verse maker,
poems of mine read world over,
Give me a bland dinner,
never, never, and never.
then write poem, after dinner
poem no value, before dinner,
poem not needed, after dinner.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem