Life always has a simple key;
If it’s not its harakat, then its hara-kiri…
I’ve just passed two decades and four years,
Living for two years in Algiers.
My life’s been a funny thriller;
Clinging to remain a caterpillar.
France for French and bass for dance;
I fully maintained my old stance.
The same faith that makes a moth nocturnal,
Made me write my grotesque journal.
Day and night through polyglotting;
I spoke weary words and hodgepodging.
My talk’s been strange as a stolen stone;
Mort satire arranged my lonely tone.
For that I’ve got beard and scrub,
I gotta be a philolover language bug.
More than twenty witty years of Earthism,
My fortune fooled the laws of Murphy’s.
Like coming from the blue, apathetic;
I’ve been walking on the gloom, my path is epic.
Overall my karma’s rather up than down,
For that, I’m thanking Allah until now.
Finally, To sum up my level up,
I clashed up twenty-four years in a cough.