Please do not spread your dark mind in the world.
There are too many woes from hunger, disease, fear,
loss of spring and heart.
Striking a stooping man does not make a sunrise.
Modern man, you have improvised arms now,
pebbles, stones and axes are primitive choices.
No more bombs and guns to satisfy lust and hatred,
no skull can support you.
Alone in society, you are run of the mill,
devoid of mental and physical strength.
So you have opted to join the weeds
who have a greater plan to dominate the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem