Dolly was her name.
She was a sheep.
Some asinine
and arrogant filou
had started up a game
of can we screw and keep,
have a genetic line
superior to any zoo.
But Dolly faltered,
some things were not
and could not be
up on the up
when it was altered
and Dolly's life was
yes, 'twas cut
they prayed, said
over runs the cup
and then she died.
But someone lied.
It had been all along intended
to put her down for science's sake
and fourteen laws, newly amended
would give the world a needed shake.
So IVF and other tricks
will still be there for those who will
take peace of mind compared to NIX
and Dolly died. She'd had her fill.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem