The fire of curiosity, of festivity gradually dwindled down
The adoration, glamour, colour got exhausted
It's the same image on every image
The same decorations
The same mob
Identical songs blared
Similar fervour, enthusiasm, mettle
What's new, rum, remarkable?
What makes the difference?
Follows the cycle of regeneration tirelessly
Exhausted are the minds, mirth, muse
The dog tired humanity
That's crushed by the wheels of humanity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem