It was impossible to judge distance,
They were professionals, but weird.
But a beard banged on, careers were few,
Never the angers, never the brains of fear.
Volunteering a badge we judged,
And we condemned the few who threw it.
Spears found in the head were taken,
And they abhorred the sheer slopes.
Forcing a mountain and valley
The judgement remained clear
And the steep slopes caused the morning.
The meandering path came to an abrupt hill
And veered into general happiness
After so much mistiness and longing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem