Where is she?
They searched and searched to no avail.
The whole neighborhood had failed
When finally she showed an hour late;
Stood innocently with glowing childhood tale
Of carved tree trunks in the wood.
Lest he again entertain the awful terror
Still lodged firmly beneath it,
That grim knot of anger in his gut
Demanded satisfaction and release.
All he knew to do was lash out,
His rage and fury striking blow after blow
On tender skin;
So neither of them would ever know
Such fear again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem