The night falls slowly
Creeping above the lowly
Lands of shameless people
Busily going home
Or planning to revel
In their drunken revelry.
Until that day of the Son of Man comes
Chaotically people in the lowly
Lands of shamefulness
Be punished perfectly
In the wrath of hell
They shall rot, anguish, perish basically.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem