A Timid King
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The script was given in time
It's too heavy and really a challenge.
He was chosen as the King.
He cried, and he wants to tell the Playwright
“Give me a small part in your massive drama,
As I am a born pauper.
The crown isn't fit for my head
And I am scared of the sword.
The rough shining dress tingles my soul
And I shall feint on the stage
When the curtain rises.”
But the thoroughbred horse neighs
And refuses any other King to ride on its saddle.
Bu şiiri puanla
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