RATS

 

The cannibals throw the Roman purple mantle

over these long-tailed, scaly, mutant rats

that morphed into big, disgusting evil-doers,

they squeak haunted by sadness when they lose

it all, when it hurts them when their fangs fall down

they gather together silently under the altars

and they smile indifferently. They don’t like

this country without a god. This world is going

to be forsaken, devastated, gnawed on

and transformed into shit, in it they see only pride,

greed, wickedness, defiance, disdain, cannibalistic

crime, audacity of thieves. Soldiers are waiting

for them to catch them by the tail and to stick

them into the saucepan to cook the soup.

Night by night they counsel one another

under the altar. The priests quake and shout scared,

“Vade retro, Satana!” (Begone, Satan!)  and the fire

of the prayer goes out. These are the Romanians

with their bare face.