There is a blue sky that shudders
And turns black after exhaustion;
The fires are on, in the childhood,
Many of these days are like fountains.
Loathing the men of mathematical qualities
Is nearly making me shudder,
For the shunning of the sun is huge.
Underneath the sky of the star is a planet,
And the soil is an open field of commerce.
Let the black mountains outshine others
In their blackness, so that fire of igneous rocks
Inflames our heart and speaks mathematically high.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem