Always the reminder is in the head,
We compel others to the taste of downstairs;
The underground world beckons the followers
Of an absentee, this sense is called nonsense.
Why do we clearly reveal secrets to those above?
My accusations absorbed by the real one
Exact vengeance on the real people who relax.
May we diversify this bridge of speed,
The forging of the wandering few commands us.
Let a remembrance be grand, and over us
A certain collection for the addressed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem