When a prince enters a room,
Flowers bloom in full professing,
The engine starts non-foolishly,
As returning to heaven catches light.
The martyrs enter their houses
To be gifts for the men who see
All empires in their infancy,
Mighty death catches delight.
Where are the godly men who
Write their redness and blueness
According to visible light
Gifted to them by the God Supreme?
The palace is the arguing case,
It is far too splendid in its wake
On the sudden streams and springs
Erupting in the corrupted heavens.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem