This poem is about Dracula's legend in my country and it is part of a new collection of poems on which I have been working for some time

I am from Dracula's country,
and though I would like to say more
on this,
I am prevented
by some very recent research
showing that
ghosts are not able to walk;
it would infringe on
Newton's laws, they say.

I did not visit Dracula's castle,
not yet; you know, it is too near,
and other places far away
are always more interesting.

Do not think I am fearful.

It's strange anyway, as people
come from everywhere in Romania
intrigued by
the medieval bloody story;
but there is a scientist
who calculated
that if a vampire sucked
one person's blood each month-
turning each victim into an equally
hungry vampire - after a couple of
years there would be no people left,
just vampires.

One day, I will also visit
that place in my Carpathians
whatever happens,
probably on a weekend,
so I can remain overnight
to see what is going on there.

It must be just a legend,
as these scientists know what they speak about,
and no complaints so far,
nothing,
not to mention my country is full of
different kinds of stories,
and above all
I am not afraid.