Dark, musky den, the sun, too terrified to peep through cracks in the top...yellow unblinking eyes littered...tense
In struts the sheep...
Blind to certain fate...
Deaf to surrounding danger...
Snarls, nerve tingling
Hair breaking whistles..
Still the noiseless clippy clod clutter echoes
It is strange..
It is strange..
How confident, the sure gait, the sheep possessed..
Still she clutters..
Past the sentry...
Head held high...
Pedigree in tact...
Skill primly groomed..
It ends with just one bite..
Shrill pitiful bleats...
Greedy blood cuddling snarls...
The darkness with its light circles
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem