It were the sirens
who had the hero in thrall
Sirens are now sounded
to keep the heroes pent up in their
600 square feet flats
Hah Ha
There they ponder over their tv sets
set their attention on the shaver
and the after shave lotion
And soon the after siren city
becomes agog with heroic activities
tramcars tinkling buses jingling
bars noisling
crowd whiggling
No one can hear the thunder voices
of the sly politicians
mailed with nuclear weapons
Hah Ha
We are the heroes
who pour beer in each others mug
half in love with easeful death
when sirens sing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem