Fabricated distortions, disinformation
A veritable web is like the net a fish abhors.
A parasite thriving on the tree of life
Yellow leaves, like autumn though in spring.
A hundred faces, a chameleon would envy
A serpent in sleeve, or hidden in shoe.
Headless nails, once driven in; has anyone
Taken them out, unless broken is the log.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem