It is dark.
It was dark.
It always will be
until now.
He's back
from outer space,
this friend that wandered in
with a familiar face
It is nice to be with old friends
cause it feels nice.
Think about the oil that spills
tumbles out the body of a wretched
broken ship
and all the penguins
their tuxedos stained black
so just their shirts
they would rather not be stained.
so think about that.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem