Dear gossamer-winged ones,
The mayflies or dayflies (order Ephemeroptera) form a
most lamentable group within your ranks. Their brief
maturity in particular really touches me, assuming they have not
before their time become the prey of fish, songbird, spider or
dragonfly. Eating is not even in the picture, with mouth parts so
rudimentary and non-functioning that I, by way of compensation,
would gladly place my small family car (Fiat, type Panda, nice and light), with
myself as chauffeur, possessing good straight shoulders,
at their disposal, so that the most magnificent views lie in the
offing for the well-developed male's eyes and a
nuptial flight a hundred kilometres farther on, with females unthought-of.
Yours faithfully.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem