Wet in the Ground | work in progress
translated poem:
w gruncie mokro (~mistral)
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Moderator: Michał Zabłocki
ankle-deep I wade in the stream of words
against insinuations I stumble
matter of fact I feel pity onwards
that you are still damn right which I grumble
I'd like to show you my erudition
but, alas, it's beyond my cognition
stutter in my reply in addition
will you give me someday your rendition?
but, mind you, my dear, take it easy
your eyes might fall off from your orbits
and the depth of words will not pour away
and I will not be charmed with your merits
against insinuations I stumble
matter of fact I feel pity onwards
that you are still damn right which I grumble
I'd like to show you my erudition
but, alas, it's beyond my cognition
stutter in my reply in addition
will you give me someday your rendition?
but, mind you, my dear, take it easy
your eyes might fall off from your orbits
and the depth of words will not pour away
and I will not be charmed with your merits
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