One chased up by masquerade
Would give all his best run,
No complain untill distant is made
Till the fast busy chaser is won
Comfort is not an option for a prey
Nor for one behind the mask
But demons do give up their chase,
if you scare them out of the dark
It is true many have triumphed death
They gave him no space of breathe.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem