It is an idea that many
man died for liking-
at once seemed profitable and sensible.
Amazing how good ideas can fall in the-
hands of untreated boars.
They fret it; they scattered it in their-
own fields: sorrow surfacing, sorrow to the
plants eaten at their rooting, rooting stems.
Sorrow to the future; sorrow to the young.
Sorrow, sorrow to the world.
Sorrow in the heavens whose word' is disobeyed:
Sorrow, sorrow, sorrow everywhere.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Hello good poet friend. I want to say I enjoyed your poem very much. I also want tot hank you for your recent review of my poem, it means a lot. Blessing! Loy