Nagging woman, with ceaseless tongue that nags,
Forever on my shoulder, in my ear,
Your constant buzz, a never-ending plague,
No peace or quiet, for you will not hear.
Your words, like thorns, they prick and pierce my soul,
With every nag, my patience wears so thin,
I long for respite, for a brief parole,
But you persist, your nagging knows no end.
Your voice, a broken record on repeat,
Repeating every flaw, each mistake,
As if I need the constant, harsh defeat,
To remind me of the choices I make.
But oh, how I yearn for a moment's rest,
From your nagging ways, a brief escape,
Alas, your words, like arrows, they protest,
And I am left, with no room to reshape.
Oh nagging woman, your voice may never cease,
But I'll find solace, in moments of peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem