The crows smelled
Flesh fumes burning
Perched upon my shoulder
One tipped its head.
People limped around, sniffing
Dragging their feet
Huffing into the air; spiked
With fresh wounds
Hounds slathered their teeth
Saliva and hunger
Following with guttural growls
Prancing in Celtic dance
They smell the dead
Shackled to the feet
Of tall men
Hauling it in streets
We stumble, wooden eyed
Tasting the vermin sea
Strapping the dead
Throwing the key.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem