I seize the authority entering my vicinity,
Strategy follows my plans that endanger,
For troops ready their scalpels with some pain
And they collect a real find of the treasure.
My wars are planned from the erroneous heart,
Numbers like integers from their arrays
As the words cascade and an avalanche
Must be near to be herself, the witch of heartache.
My twenty or so pains are ready to be discovered,
After the war bleeding inside,
Reading the plans is like studying the disorder,
So far are the pains of a suffering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem