The gurgling gypsies frolicked in the united hands of the sun,
Lacking a ladder of fortitude and lacking the rebuttals of modernity;
One hidden thrown object confronted the mass and entities,
One rock had provided a saturation and an indignant air so long for all.
This philharmonic object was an item of magic for the few who frolicked,
Indeed it permeated the realms of beautiful sorcery, liking the tongue of winters.
We were historic and objective when we sighed with the gypsies
In their air of transmittance, a weathered breed they had become.
Many balls of light danced solely for the pleasure of penalties
That dazzled the young pets of the gypsy, the gypsies had begun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem