If you sneak into my house
With your fire-ax
And cut off my head
While I am sleeping on the couch,
I will have ten seconds
In which my eyes on the floor
Will direct my body
To the shot gun propped
In the corner,
Already loaded,
To do to you what you have
Already done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a little morbid but a good tip...