Murky matters solidify to fight a year,
Years pass for the people who care;
Cleansing the fastened rope with water
We raise the subject of a rarity.
When the yesterday has arrived
Then we mutter so that corridors
Speak like halls, and halls speak points
Of conduct, that shrivel afterwards.
Especially the murky matters astound us
In the end.
Rope has gained weight on this world
And we have arguments for the whole of Us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem