The stories cannot be trusted,
Because of the pile of lies,
Friends or foes there i see,
no distinction at all.
The thoughts we are surrounded,
Enthralled by the whims of possession,
Thy are ready to do anything without,
Their interest to carry on through wilds.
Many ways they see but dare not to walk,
Carried down to darkness by their own ego,
Hypnotized by the colors spread by tycoons,
Wish to be like them without efforts getting laid.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem