My farce depicts my rage along the time,
May language find a fault with some of these
Little diseases of this age that states.
Words devastate the real divisions now,
Now that is godly finding me and you.
My farce destroys a little sun of us,
The star for all of us shall carry one,
And this demand defends my actual goal.
Time staggers as the gods roll one over you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem