Mine is the case of a stolen car
abandoned in a road beside a fen.
Windscreen shattered, doors ajar,
tires lifted, slashed and fired within.
Headlights dimmed-their bright beams gnouted out,
antenna snapped, my thin, quivering ear,
Radio roughly jimmied from my throat
glove box pilfered of its tapes and gear.
Something criminal has occurred in me-
perhaps there is a body in my trunk
maybe some overturned complacency
sets your soul astir in such a funk-
or makes you look and quickly race away
at twilight when alone you pass me by.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem