Riding one out of the shoot, the rider is intent on roping one in. The target runs as an unrestrained one should but there lurks a rider in the midst. His mode of transport hints at one sport but there's another game and its target has your name. A rope is his weapon. What's my weapon? This message is your weapon now that you know the game.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem