Death is gizmo
making life
as speed of sound.
smitten by our punishment
all convey
in stride it flows
Left with few geniuses
right to be
the envy of all
Yet right of passage
is often granted
by strong convictions
So even you
and eye
can be overlooked
whence shallow visions
prevent to see
within the soul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem