A frozen glance,
A stiff body, hence
A corpse lies on the ground
That has, two days posthumous, been found.
The Police think it's a homicide;
Reporters assume it's a suicide.
In his right hand is a knife,
Perhaps the murderer is his wife.
In his left hand is a bat made of wood,
Perhaps the cause was his depressed mood.
Autopsy shows traces of psychoactive drugs,
Which prove both sides were right.
Both homicide and suicide were the causes of death,
Because multiple personality disorder governed his health.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem