The Unlucky Inventor
In winters the sun does not reach down to my valley
so I put my hall mirror on top a knoll; who the hell
needs a hall mirror, it poked fun of me every time
I walked past on my way to the kitchen to make me
another sandwich. In January and February the sun
shines in my garden and there was no autumn in my
life. But my latest invention which I sold to
the Taliban brought my heartache, it is a devise that
detect drones and make them explode in the air,
There are lots of explosions over Afghanistan and
Pakistan. Alas, I´m a fugitive from the Americans
who claim I´m abetting the enemy; the Taliban have
not paid me either. The US government wants me
dead, not by drones, but by sending in the marines.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem