They were nowhere to be seen,
But now the sight defied analysis;
Picking up the story, we wrote this narrative,
Curling my writing utensil, defying the senses.
It was not overabundant but laughable
To see men in pictured form,
The form of animals and crossbreeds,
Looking at the walls, the facilities
And howling too largely for their size.
Behind them was a bloody walkway,
And then they pounced in that way
To avoid me, as if dogs too frightened
By their masters, picturing me as a planet.
The door showed itself open,
And I headed the other direction.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem