What hounds are these
That sniff at me;
Am I in decay?
Blood has trickled
Like perspiration
And left me smelly.
A death-like grip
Of inevitability
Has woken me.
The ghosts of my fathers
Haunt me,
I can not escape.
They encircle me -
A castrated carcass
In a sweat.
A pounding heart
Now no more
Can say.
O I know their call -
The forgotten familiar
Call for war.
Transpired fumes
Have gathered up
In mushroom clouds.
These clouds are formed
Of deceit
Saturated.
They'll fall;
Time has come
For retribution.
Father who sowed
Venom in my egg
Is dead.
My poor flesh
Barely born
Must pay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem