The lone fox
Going on the way
Looking like the dog,
But is not,
A carnivorous animal,
Always in search of flesh
Rotting
Or the left-overs
Of the garbage heap
Or the fowls
It can catch
In some den.
The only animal I sight it
Passing
On the lonely way,
All alone
While the others
Have left
excepting it
Which still appears from
And walks on,
Feeding on
The poisonous left-overs
of modern man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem