A berserk man is a charming one,
Childlike in his being, in boiling point.
Bitter moments are remembered,
Decorous life shall inhibit his trials
From taking victory.
Ceaseless life manages moments
Just about boundless, full in lustre.
The berserk man clumsily munches
On and on, feeding his frenzy with
Unions and betrayals, of a higher
Form of justice that he is so proud of.
Cheap and cloudy are the inner workings
Of his mind - the real object, the actual object.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem