I saw a kangaroo with a gun
he was a fugitive on a run.
He said he went in the suburbs, and
random shot five hundred men.
He stole a helicopter from the army
and hovered over the bush
over the farms, over the fields,
everywhere swoosh, swoosh.
From air he shot a farmer,
then another, and another
just him and his brother
are now hiding from the ranger
who once was a friend
but now is just another stranger
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh Milica - this is one piece that had to be written and I'm glad you've written it! It's marvelous! This is exactly how I felt when I read recently how kangaroos are being killed and exported to Russia and China; and I read with horror how the animals are killed...you've captured my feelings so well in this poem... I think the roos are hopping round blessing the name of Milica Franchi De Luri!