Turn into circles as we drag our spheres,
The shapes are plentiful, maybe the danger.
Inside we feel creepy, crawling into supper,
But the circles are condemning us in their glory.
The glory is shaking my head, crept upon
By mathematicians so awesome in writing.
The awe of lords and gentlemen is grand,
Grand is this pleasant news, so pleasant, pleasant news.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem