In this corner, his bellow is rightly justified. Harsh deep breaths fill his lungs, released tension slows the heavy footfalls. A dozen liberated doves fly out overhead as he thrashes against the cage of his labyrinth. Then there are others. Soft brown rabbits hide under bushes of the deepest green. A wolf surprises one. Deep crimson covers his muzzle as the cascading water of the waterfalls drowns out the screams of suffering agony that it makes. Even imagination can’t discard cruelty. Dragons drift languidly after hours of sunbathing. They look for their next meal, trails of smoke waking the mighty phoenix. The butterflies gather, almost as if in a meeting. The centaurs and unicorns dance to the imaginary harmony. And the beat goes on. A stack of paperwork lies in front of me. A fog covers creativity. My mind has been demoted to the task of a filing cabinet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
filing cabinet, harsh. Lovely imagery here, and as a fantasy nerd I was all agog with the dragons and the Minotaur and whatnot. Very well written.