The gorilla does what gorillas can
sits on a dung heap,
protecting it with its life
as if it belongs
to only him
and eats bananas
from its own republic
faster than they grow,
scratches for tics and lice,
swats some opponents
down like flies
scorches the plain
over and over again
and shakes its head
walking among the slain
not able to understand
where every thing has gone
and although it walks
on hind legs,
growls words as speech
and sometimes begs,
but one task
is beyond its reach:
the gorilla cannot
become human again.
[Reference: August 1968 by W.H. Auden.]
Gert Strydom
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-gorilla/