In the city of darkness
Stark grey roads wind and twist,
Paved over with asphalt
Colder than the hearts of the millionaires
Whose extravagant abodes sit upon them;
Is
there
anything
wrong?
On a street void of breath and life
Lies a small brown form,
Lifeline drawn out in a trail of red.
Fur matted with blood,
Its limp tail twitches like a marionette
Playing a final act in the empty breeze.
Only the wind howls its hollow grief;
No,
there's
nothing
wrong
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's real. It's gritty and poetic- I like how the first verse is more mysterious, and then the single line 'Is there anything wrong' leads you into a more disturbing realm of imagery, such as, a line I liked, 'fur matted with blood, it's limp tail twitches like a marionette' and then, closing with the line 'No, there's nothing wrong' is the icing on the cake. Roadkill. Perfect!