The moons are satellites for the unknown,
Speaking is the ritual caressing the joints
So much in love with joints,
And I say this with jests of the bodies in the heavens.
Let the roads be hazardous to the enemies of God,
For the heat inside is cleverer than pies and pudding,
Eaten at a glance for the tale is undone,
Feeding a frown to the little ones.
I see the villainous trends from corpulent people,
Saws of luck are employed for the benefit of cutting
Of trees that have stunts and staggers,
Stages of deceit, stages of relief like stars and leaves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem