Authenticity is the hooked bill of the vulture,
the hunched over, crooked pose,
wings stiffened to lunge at the fetid carrion.
Authenticity breathes and breaks
in its own space,
setting its own pace.
Defiant, piercing,
blood drips, screeches deafen,
Life feeding on Death.
And when a mighty span of wings,
lifts Authenticity to the heavens,
it is the peer of eagles.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem