The valley must describe a way to the end of the world,
This much is to know, this need in us exists;
Which weapon came about? Where rests the pain?
The valley and the gods well-explain our musts.
The musts so avid, mightily grow to encase us,
The stupor of the region is ruining, too rushed,
As we swing to the rhythm of a sound so great.
The valley of deeds can explore us as well,
Forests swindle the carriers, forming us with regret.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem