When a man begets war and doesn't know
what to do with it-
Should he bathe it?
Should he clothe it?
Should he feed it?
Should he comb its hair and send it with its siblings to school?
Should he hire a nanny to contain it?
Should he use his thumb and index
to pinch its nostrils
to stop bleeding?
……………………..
It's an odd thing that requires
zillions of cigarettes and better coffee.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem