How do you breathe so slow, so placid?
So calmly, so cool and collected?
Don’t you know there’s a war at your door?
It’s knocking – persistent – they seek blood.
Clarified: innocent’s screams will do.
So run, hide – they come on soft feet.
Breathe lightly, or they’ll hear your last gasp.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem