The hospitals celebrate their works
On the sucking of the blood for the summary.
The sentences they devise are affairs
Of words told from a distance,
Showing a stage of superficial colours.
The house they approach resides in itself,
See the men of worth and their endeavours;
Rattling is a sin with solids and liquids,
For the force within carries the certainty,
Like a certain course of action or one act.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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