He was lost with a railroad in a river of situations,
In the direction better influences were miles away;
Driven by the villages of both chiefs, a clear mark
Happened to be parked in some collision of the rivers.
The maps certainly outshone the railroad,
He had missed the remarkable rams
That decided to bellow with existence.
With a walking stick, a bite from strangers
Was a short man of resistance.
They wore fur-coloured coats, conceiving the
Sentences of the mad monkeys,
In the bridges of healthy germs.
He had missed the wreck, a wreck consolidated
The project of young devilry,
Worshipped devils marked the spot of turning to
Help the women of lesser denominations.
He was lost in the real reach,
She was a wife of silver rings, exotic.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem