My music is a man of plays and solitude,
He writes a minute and a second, for the
Red ruin and the blue joy, the green pasture
And the white sight, one solitude is enough.
My statement of the musical men is fighting
The irate pen from its work of the heavenly
Daughters and sons, who form an alliance
And catch the finding of laws and jokes.
My finding of the hearts that are outside is
So precious that a benign being has hidden
Me as well as my messages, the realities of
The sacred implementation, a rowdy tie.
My music is to deliver and destroy the lies,
A lightning bolt describes itself as it forces
The mind to accept it, and then the thunder
Must marry our daughters and sons now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem