People are dancing on snail shell,
Milch is totally glues
Red milk is grief,
Pains in the parts.
Tears as heavy as ocean's.
People with terrible tears tumbles,
The perpetual patrol of pains
Has made us to moan.
We think they have soild solution,
But they are soild destrustions
Human are inhuman human.
Their soul is soleless,
Walk on the pins with hills
With no pain in their parts
Will Shall meet when the way is narrow.
You luciferian plenipotentiaries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem