Forget his Neronian Muse.
What troubles me
is this man was a psychiatrist.
He had analysed the loam
under his every step, excavated
mines from the subconscious
and unraveled
the noose of schizophrenia.
But if hatred is your core
genocide is geology,
pragmatic as a frontal lobotomy.
In a dialogue of snipers
the calmest, most rational aim prevails;
a Socrates
at an Adriatic chessboard,
the sanest of wolves
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem