there is an old dog
white and stinking
its chains are made of silver
its ribs protrude from the side of its belly
it has a house with a red tin roof
its head touches it when it sits
upon a cemented floor
its master is an unmarried man
who is always away on vacation
this dog does not need milk or bread
or bone
it is dead
a long time ago
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem