Agríla Baglóda Tahíb

I just flew back from the Washington DC area, and even though a lot of times in the past, I've complained about the flight on this blog, I'm not going to do that this time. It's not necessarily that there isn't anything to complain about -- it's because I don't think you want to read about it. I know you'd much rather read this week's bad poem, for example.

As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, a very small percentage of the English-speaking population reads this blog. So it dawned on me that the poems I post to this blog need not all be written in English.

However, since I don't really know any other languages, my only choices are to write in English or write in some language that I just made up.

For this week's poem, I decided to use a made-up language. But since I didn't invent a writing system, I decided to use the Roman alphabet. And since I didn't invent any pronunciation rules, you can pretty much pronounce this poem anyway way you want, as long as you're consistent. (If you aren't, some of the rhymes may be lost.) If you recognize that this poem is in the form of a limerick, you should have no problem determining which syllables should be stressed, but for your convenience, I've added accent marks anyway.

And now, without any further introduction or delay, I present you with today's bad poem.

Agríla baglóda tahíb
Kora fénaba králimo tíb.
Nepáti océya,
Orámi nadréya.
Ko págli haráta paríb.