It stalks the streets...
Devouring prey.
Once a month,
Never at day.
Our torch-lit mob,
Seeks it out.
This time we kill,
No shadow of doubt.
Its over there!
We set upon him.
Ripping and tearing,
Limb from limb.
Our deed is done,
The Beast is dead.
A trophies kept,
This Wolfman's head!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem