Deep stupor, I tried to find
in wine bottle to lull my mind
but the torpor was all in vain
against love’s excruciating pain.
Eerie swirling smoke flume
engulfs the gloomy bar room,
frightening figures, all tall,
sway, menacing, on the wall.
I see, disfigured, your face,
In my mind I felt unease,
I see you slowly shrink,
I said it must be the drink.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
iT IS TRUE THEN what they say about drinking It can make a not so pretty woman become the prettiest of them all, and all others (laughs) .