During the ageing process is a gift
For the hearty heads and the chiefs;
They mean too much to be hidden away
Like the age occurring with cultures.
Mighty thinkers bash into the plants of the past,
Exploring a sudden path for the dark and dank way
Still in my head of love.
No-one appears with genetic habits,
The effects of thinking possess small ramifications.
To end this life frontally objects
Like the face that nears us.
Shunning and throwing a ball,
The games of thinkers have ended too
Meltingly, wearing the plates of stings;
Allow the past to reconcile itself,
Brides are on the road to victory!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem