Moving in between the places hard to catch and hard to identify
From a dead body to a little boy’s pie
Every thing is an airport; a soft girl’s cheek or a hard, muscled arm of a guy
Surviving all the environment whether a wet one or dry
Hiding in the purity of the water or under the beautiful wing of a butterfly
With the power of an army and the flexibility of a spy
Every one is afraid of this powerful destroyer or this epidemic fly
It’s an epidemic which spread with lots of victims that; no one can deny
With a bloody casualty, which no good intention could justify
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem