The beautiful world is necessary,
It is inscribed by the worlds and places;
The beautiful earth is of clay,
What human is not acting of this?
I feel the heaviness of sin as I deplore
The strictnesses and the lights of houses,
A family beset by familiar troubles
Spells out more tonsils for the offences.
The beautiful doing is perfect, like the sea
Of the heart, a real mixture of blood
And words from the heavens, anxious men
Have a remedy for all these insanities.
But are you wary of the frankness?
Or is frankness the way to victory?
My beautiful ways are beauty and the mien
Of offered sacrifices, like the character
Of men who delve into witchcraft.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem