It purred, a kitten's sound.
Though frayed, there was no ground,
to link it to the Mother Earth
the oscillations soon gave birth
to salmon coloured roe,
and bits of wiggly snow.
The will of a strange God
with timing plainly odd
sent current's potent juice
and cooked the gander's goose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem