I felt very sad
after seeing the crabs,
being tied in hands and legs.
Then they were put into a pot of water.
Did you think they couldn't be happier?
Oh, no! the fire beneath made water hotter and hotter.
They started to get panic.
But they could not move a bit.
Popping up their eyes...so round and big.
The crabs called out for help.
No one could hear until their shell became red.
Then they were ready for dinner table to be served.
Now there approaching is cold winter.
Tens of thousand of crab will be eaten by consumers.
Crabs cooked alive is good as virility booster.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem