Last night, as softly as a spider flees,
A Passover of grim oblivion
Advanced inexorably by degrees
Due westward from the prime meridian.
It swept unhindered, ruthless, in a day
Everywhere. Every soul was harvested.
Zombie apocalypse was yesterday.
In our sleep last night all were weighed, tested,
And found wanting. Only discarded husks
Of meat and appetites were left. Remnant
Detritus, void anthropoid shells of lusts,
Awoke in our beds. Golems, ambulant,
Go on about our business, shambling by.
Notice the difference? Neither can I.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem