Mixed messages of love and joy.
Translated by other sites.
You think you penned it right.
Something went wrong.
You're talking of flowers, which in a gorgeous garden grew.
Translated to flour for bread, chucked in a wordy stew.
It's all so confusing, words of blood, became squelching mud.
Oh what is this poetic person to do?
Reminder to self,must not write love poems in foreign tongue to you.
Words of love all painted blue.
Just a little sticky.
Oops.
Could be a little tricky.
You say you want to visit,
In perfect spiel you say "Innit".
The twisted words may become untangled,
Eventually.
When the translation websites all make sense or scents,
They may end up smelling sweet.
(C) LIVVI
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 6:00 AM UTC
Mixed messages of love and joy.
Translated by other sites.
You think you penned it right.
Something went wrong.
You're talking of flowers, which in a gorgeous garden grew.
Translated to flour for bread, chucked in a wordy stew.
It's all so confusing, words of blood, became squelching mud.
Oh what is this poetic person to do?
Reminder to self,must not write love poems in foreign tongue to you.
Words of love all painted blue.
Just a little sticky.
Oops.
Could be a little tricky.
You say you want to visit,
In perfect spiel you say "Innit".
The twisted words may become untangled,
Eventually.
When the translation websites all make sense or scents,
They may end up smelling sweet.
(C) LIVVI
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