This is the place
Where you eventually succumb
To the expensive but shortlived
Pleasures of a whore.
You drown yourself in a shallow stream
Until a hag in excessive makeup
Now looking like a bootylicious wench
Rescues you from your misery,
Only to wake up the next morning
To find yourself in bed with your grandmother.
And while she slumbers
You jump into your clothes
And like a wounded gazelle,
That has just broken loose
From the vice-like grip of a lion,
You leap into the early morning air
And limp home
Wearing shame for a jacket.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Dellas. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks