A disorder is a particle of crime,
The largest one is in this time;
Painted by the artists that mind,
It is disorder criticizing the blind.
May we return to the instrument,
Yokes of an egg are abhorrent
When you crack them, these cells
That require abandonment from bells.
Clay needs to set to make our body
Talk to resonance and good insecurity.
There are some distinctive shapes
We map on our heads as apes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem