In the morning
While the pasture is misted with light green

In one factory
Many sheep are out one by one

Solemnly the scale sounds

Not stopping the cold rain

On the sheared throat
Putting the knife

Sheep bleat
It's raining below the low sky

Bloodily
It rains on my throat

It chills the grass

Kae Morii

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bleat/