The knight of the moon walks freely among the dead
In the forest that mutters a breeze of dust from the floor of vegetation.
I see the insects crawl, modern technology gathers dust,
Mortuaries are inhabiting the folly of a day in knowledge.
The overall man sees and watches to be the path of mayhem,
The path shall converge afterwards, this way a mind is a mind.
Fantastic professors operate the daring ways of dazzling proportions;
With their forests of philosophy, and with their cities of wisdom,
They have after a short pause been in errors of disbelief,
Earning a life that suffered from too much illness and knowledge
Kept in the head, keeping this was how professors operate.
I like the way they dress their thoughts with their own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem