I am covered in soot from too much fasting,
Loathing the fuel I sustained,
Looking at faces that married my glance.
I shall dissolve and remarry from too much birth,
The feeding of the century is upon my shoulders,
I am peering inside the hole of alacrity.
My fathers have doubted the stay of a time,
Opening the fastened knots with much freaky weather,
My mothers are against my adventure.
I am coveting the stay of a century,
His patience is above the mountains he climbs
With innocence, and the enticement is supreme.
The man is adored by some, yet I stay like him,
With adventure the morsels are sustained,
Innate ability confers with other people.
My adventure is over with the enemy,
His muttering is as offensive as his bite,
The real cat is clever, but he must be a mouse.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem