I prefer the dogs abroad
to those we have at home,
their early roundelay of roars
is my canine alarm clock.
The bouncing barks
that chase the dark away
are the dawnly proclamation of
territorial rights.
The throaty bellows that announce...
'We awake, we are here
and if you don't like it,
take a hike, take a powder, take a walk'.
'We are Canaris...
Islands not so far from here
were named for our
forefathers'
'These tumbling alleys
and criss cross streets are ours,
did you not hear Two Legs,
do you not scent the fact? '.
The dogs of England in turn
are truly owned...fighting dogs,
burglar's dogs, spoilt family dogs,
fashion statement dogs.
Happy to sniff crotch and cringe,
they lack the princely lethargy
of their continental
cousins.
(Madeira 2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem