Lo! where the creation gone
The imagination thrown
Not i want to put a book
And pile it on my head
Not i want to mock a theory
And spread vague plague
The words of freedom
I talk it seldom
I spread a dark veil
out my face
Slow down my clusmy pace
The world seeks gloden population
And i trap down in mystic illusion
Trying to prove
Breathing with Suffocation
No, i don't need to turn into a precious emerald..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem