Black cloak
Like I
The six-legged beings
Cloaked black
With wings; antennas
Are bored in the jar
Locked; barred
Food limitless
Plenty of sex
Life's endless
No efforts
We ask:
"What is end? "
"Death"
They say.
"What Death? "
We ask and sharp:
"Chained...No...Freedom"
Self-reply.
"They are dead."
I top up.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem