To homo ferus, speech mattered
less than pulling fangs of frost-
Rusalky. Instead, he grew a pelage.
On two legs, he presented a target
for authorities to flatten. On four
he huddled tight to wet concrete, his bed and rock.
His beard forgot cut-throat.
It tuned into enemy signals keen as a cat's whisker.
The scaly tail was gratuitous.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this one because of it's originality, cleverness, and straight-faced humor. Another winner, Richard.