Franz Kafka

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Monday, May 7, 2012

Barn Dog, A Poem


Oh barn dog, how close
are your predicaments
to mine.
In the shelter,
the cradle is warm,
the fur dry;
and the hand that feeds
you can not bite.
But you ache,
secretively, and wail
and howl at the yellow
moon, when it's a buoy
in the unfathomable sky.

Copyright © 2012 Alessandro Baruffi

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