Summer and the winter, sprites appear wildly,
But where are the sprites of the arrayed sort?
These destinations are designed by the God,
This dangerous duty is revelling in the sight of odds,
But when the size of humanity is upright,
Sprites turn their gaze and stipulate their madness.
So struck by thunder, so fixed by their falling,
A conscious heart delves deeper than the seas
Imagined by the brooks and streams of a far higher
Time. This day is a day of rest, nights follow each other
Hastily, like clever souls finding their solutions,
To solve the problems we listen to the relaxed company.
The seasons are changing due to duty, and sadness
Feels bold, stripes of the tiger stagnate the author,
Lionesses spend their time on their tummy, like a hungry
Ghost after its prey of souls and masters that are
Delicious to hold and consume by the mouthfuls.
Ghosts! Where are you going in this world so bright
And cheery? Is the ship or house a destination for the
Bold authors who see your plenty?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem