Often humans complain
About the hard times,
But there is also no happiness
Among the animals.
As a reporter,
I asked several of them.
In general, their moaning
Was very frightful.
First, I went to the dog
Who irately explained:
It’s a dog’s life!
No meat is available.
Becoming a vegetarian
Was useless.
Times became worse,
Now there are no more vegetables.
I then asked the cat.
It sang a lament.
The milk is undrinkable,
The fat is extracted.
Adequate nutrition
Is totally hopeless:
The mice have starved to death.
What ever should I do?
Even worse – it’s awful –
The others often hunt me
And want to use me
As a substitute for venison.
Finally, the third Russian winter
Makes matters worse.
The Germans need
Many fur gloves.
The horse complained:
There’s no gasoline,
So I must haul
The heaviest weights.
No oats are provided.
The whip goads me.
They really seem to believe
That will satiate me.
The flea was unhappy.
I am not doing well
Because people are bloodless.
The war swigs too much blood.
I asked king lion
Who bawled vehemently:
People are competing too much
With beasts of prey.
Hyenas and jackals,
They are all envious,
Feeling like choirboys
In this humanness.
The moth
Was also fretting:
There is too little wool
And too much chaos!
The only happy animal
Was the dung beetle,
Who found the times
Just wonderful.
I have to praise the times,
He said with a cavalier smile,
because dirt swims at the top
And rules and dominates today.
Post-Editing: Tom Rieke
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