(after Ted Hughes)
Resting on a very high cliff ledge
my instincts are very sharp, at an edge,
while below me the world lies open-end,
as prey is caught by my telescopic glance
even if they hob, skip and away dance;
suddenly both my wings does straining bend,
of killing I have the greatest knowledge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem