Flat lands are fighting against the weapons,
These guardians of the snow are overwhelming;
For it deepens, with openings of fire,
The sharpening of weapons is afoot.
The asps are with clarity, snakes are serpents,
Africans rejoice while the alaskans remain cold.
The affirmative gestures speak well,
For aliens speak according to whims
That are pleasured and allegations come in.
The voice will rejoice, and choice plunders,
Let pseudonyms confirm the affirmations,
As they plunder the alaskans for the snow.
Their limbs ajar, a slim man is afoot with toys,
The hymns stammer today in the here and now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem