The prisoners gathered in a pit and,
The mirth of tambourines ceased!
But time is a human invention like,
The fairman and the blackman.
Of the divisions of the time in this world,
Like the salvation for walls and bulwarks;
But read my lines and hear my voice always,
Like a diadem of beauty when you listen to my speech too.
This steps of Nimrod is like the acts of the prisoners too,
But this world's paganism is of a gigantic horned bull-man!
But the prisoners gathered in a pit than,
To sit on the ground without a thrown.
Circumambulation by its owner,
With the creative force like the new wine;
But there will be mourners in times like this one day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem