Go to the imperial palace for the case,
What devastation in store!
Go to infidels and soldiers staring, blinding
And killing, with mighty hands.
In this sense we despair and melt into oblivion,
Just to keep asking, in these ways of God.
Ease must allow itself to collapse
On the difficult bread and butter,
What do tennis-players say to this?
The ball has devastating signals
For the competition in this Life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem