Beneath the rowan berry,
the mackerel midnight,
with dew upon its snout,
foe to the frog and beetle,
always in the corner
of grey tabby cat eyes,
it greets me as if Plato
in the cave, I with beer
deposit bottles, and belly
graveyards towards heaven
that only I can people
in Hades or at home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great poem. Beautiful and well written Most enjoyable and as a reader gave me great pleasure Thanks BB