Of goodwill ridden mind,
and goodwill ever taking first place
I didn't grow suspicious in the first place
not until I came upon without stuff
deeply infiltrated within.
The animals are always the same
even if they change place
Alas! It is a common place
The same minds you know without
are those that sneak in to hole up within.
The monkeys that fly between branches
become spiders on the NET.
This world is a killed animal,
its parts selective to those who know best:
Shank and Flank,
Rump and Round,
bitter innards, stomach and rectum.
Of course there are the acceptably edible
and those to dispose of
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem