The nauseating scent
Of mixed blood and mist
Stifled fresh air
From the lungs of Morn,
And choked the time-crowing crower;
The sky was eyeless,
And cheerless the day:
The cheepy-chirpy sounds
Drowned in the scene
Deluged with heads
And eyes replete with empathy.
The left toes
Had hit a stone-swell
Somewhere on this lane...
An ironclad brute was at it again!
It snarled its terror,
And crushed,
Snippets by snippets,
Under its metal-teethed
Jaw, preys in transit
And licked their leaked
Bloods with its lusterous tongues,
And belched its satiety
Into the misty air...
'This gives life to us, '
Throated one of the scavenging things,
'This takes them to the other lane of the road! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem