I'm feckless, I'm weak,
your feral nature has turned me off
and your bumptious desire to teach me the things
i can't learn, oh, how i wish, but i'm never concern
to me but you who is now hirsute, your prolix beard
made you look like a beggar on the street
who insisted on the inappropriate stand
on my love that's now seems to decline
i'm afraid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem