I see the world turning abruptly green.
Spark the flames from their exposed infernos.
I feel the sharp blade under their sugar-coated praise.
They rather gift me potassium cyanide.
I should die long before the kindred faces look ugly!
All sinister eyes gloat at my drooping figure.
They lurk to bite me off into million pieces.
I am wary of all amity turning hostility and the battle.
No. I am geared up to cope with each of the devils.
Yes. I`ll keep to the crusade against the strippers.
They are brutally stripping the divine robe of poetry.
They are calling their arbitrary whim unique creativity.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem