Magnus can’t run wild
since he bolts
once given liberty
of tether.
I identify with his struggle
as he pulls with vigor
to center the fray
in frolic
only to get denied
with a plaintive yank
at the limit of
influence,
placated and sequestered
in a panting pen
without regard for
dignity.
As I unclasp his
durable chain,
he licks my face
then jets off.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem