Przewalski's elk
never impatient
never wicked or powerful
or ugly or wooden or zebraic
never at work with komodos
and never with dessicated crops
never magic nor serious
possesing only two prerogatives
Meteor spit
Wolfhounds by midnight
to never again walk on
It costs what it costs
the above is a "translation" [which is something like babelfishing, but without the help of a computer] of part of the poem Atlantyda, by Wislawa Szymborska
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a watering hole in mongolia
where the last przewalski's
horses were seen in the wild
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