There could be soft spots in this earthly sojourn,
But all agree that there are arid zones
That sear and inflame your bones,
Times you wouldn't want for a second relived;
The diamond rocks in the flesh of butter,
Occasions on which the claws of fate engulfed
And tentacles of hard luck mercilessly ground.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem