A thought may reach the other house,
But my expertise stayed in this home;
My thought is in the head like a mouse
That risks its existence with a cat that can roam.
My doing is for the pleasure of the year,
My years I count, like a mathematical computer,
As fast as one, and as precise as one can bear,
For they who are strict are like a member.
One thinker is only a righteous man
When he stopped another action
That is thought of as ugly, like a ban,
Like a police man or one with aggression.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem