He lost his legs to the beak of his mother
Who crippled him when he cracked from his second womb
Covered in yolk and blood
He weeped
And wiggled his phantom-limbs
Without satisfaction
He rolled on the ground like a worm
Wearing his eggshell like a cap
And was put out of his misery by the farmer who took
An axe from the shed and put it mercifully to work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem