Today's prompt was to find a poem written in a foreign language and sort of translate it phonetically. Man, I really despised this challenge...
and we had nothing to do
one's for all of them
they cascade and err to
outkeep forever the
same old, nothing's certain
and trysts queue, oh near them
a man doesn't make errors
distance is the making
no same man is so vain
overseen and ever-nearer
This was the poem I used. Sorry, E. M. de Melo e Castro.
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Well I might be mad but I rather liked it. :)
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