Whenever the odds are high
that death will come with a stroke,
hunting takes top spot in sports
and a lion that's shot
is a lion that's a lucky bloke.
Odds not now so high,
we ban his killing
to let him die like us;
but needing its luck,
we kill our pets with the stroke.
The odds are extinction in the anthropocene or a gamblers roulette.
Odds not now so high, really I remembered this in this early morning. And how are you?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Luck is actually quite opinionative in this case, don't you think?