We
all
know
it's
real.
It just
has to
happen
to make
it true.
If they
lie again
we'll cut
their heads.
And their
blood will
flood from
the alligator
and rat
infested
sewerage
of old New
Amsterdam
to Petersburg
where poor
Raskolnikov
lies sick.
New times
have come.
Tomorrow
no one
will put
the cereals
first
anymore.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem