Into a valley lined with blubber
glides slowly a peculiar rubber.
To serve and to protect they say
small fungi gather at the bay.
Like moths attracted to the flame
a fleeting moment all the same.
They soon succumb to acidosis
and feed their foe through straight osmosis.
Oh glory, I have known you well
have penetrated your dark shell.
You must accept my blatant lie,
now in retreat, I'll gladly die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem