All hunting packs on earth are different
Though we're all hound's nose to the ground
We're all here for the first time,
Scenting blood like a bloodhound.
Tradition systematizes these strengths in size.
But I am a herring gull and all belief systems
Are basically, the same
Do unto others as they'll do unto you and rule their pain
But I'm the hound that goes missing
Simply because I can't be found
I can't be bloodied by the crowd.
Simply because I'm always, missing
Simply because of the scent, I'm searching
For can't be found, searching the ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem