The sorrows of the Bachelor

The secrecy of the world has make one in many minds,
For the numerous blind children roaring in scrotum,
Shouting for mother to give sight for future,
Fatigued in washing old black pots of ancestral fathers.

Long waiting for comforter to enroll the game of nature,
Groaning in night for no child to padlock the bolts,
The voices of babies unborn entrenched the bones,
While cutting the hays in patching the leaking roofs.

The floors of the house occupied by the drying grasses,
Four corners of my room measured not my length,
When Will our fathers wear trousers for rest,
O bachelors of future when Will you change your old mother's pants.

Call me not bachelor in my home town,
The bride-price of queens had leaning my length flesh,
Hoping but to live in desert hole,
O I am a...