iPoem · 47.5805.193.569 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 47.5805.193.569 (no. 795,508) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 9:34 am
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