That time passed that I
was overwhelmed by deceit
thinking over the latest of her quest.
That queer on the post, typing the comment rips the edges of mine clothe
lurking what it is like to be a friend in the midnight dancing.
Oh, and yet the so called friend lifts the troddent feeling press.
That the irritant keep on lounging;
like a rotten cadevern on the midday sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem