The numbers of this race are elongated
To see the circles in the sand of our foe.
One tooth bargains for the entering feud,
It needs to be chopped off by the chief.
My chin is destroyed by fever of fire,
The beard denigrates the face of hair,
So everything designs a solvent of thought,
With solutes to make the final heaven.
Victory has been assured by the ideals
That swing to the foreground like ice.
The ice is too fine, the nice reaction
Ignites another thought to bedevil the dates.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The numbers of this race are elongated. Very amazing poem shared with wise expression.10