Eye which looks is not holy
No mouth that speaks is pure,
Every Men's wits is good as folly,
And too weak to err in each lure
The gods made us intelligent as fool
Our sights beyond its lids cannot see,
A wound behind his neck, he can't view;
Then whoso gecks do praise himself a smart-ree.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem