Mosquitoes' lives may be ephemeral,
their deaths almost always brutal.
but during their temporary span,
nothing will stand in the way
of their two challenging guiding yearnings,
to slurp up human blood, and to reproduce.
There is nothing more irritating than,
the buzzing of a mosquito that can't,
get through the mosquito net to bite you.
There is nothing more irritating than,
itchy mosquito bites which are driving you nuts,
roving during the night, choosing their targets.
Watch out the mosquitoes;
flourish at the finish of summer,
remain, the final derisive life
form flying above the final water mere,
after the last imprudent humanoid has vanished
and the creation has ended.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem