My teachers yesteryear
Potters of men
When the ink soiled my fingers
And English was difficult
But not love letters
And I stubborn like a bedbug
You spared not the voice and the rod
Shouting
Scolding
Flogging
And I assumed you wicked.
(Wednesday 12th November,1997)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem