You appear composed of flames,
dark dirty grey green flames,
flames that give no light or heat,
flames that make filthy the very light.
So you killed your mother,
your wife left you
and went to America,
but what happened to the baby
your wife had,
what happened to the baby, Fred,
what happened to the baby?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem