Before pouncing on me playfully, with at first confused, before realizing that it just wanted to play meaning im the wolfs catch, in the wold of science and dreams it seems, to be struck in my lively arms in mid reality, whines of protest from no live souls i say to no inhaler, with nothing of new lies everything end's with claws extended.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem