Underneath the tree of lights springs a bird
That flies through mountainous wastes
And deposits eggs of the higher calamities.
A word has been brought to feed the masses,
Fiercely the pages have been set to proclaim
The young intentions of an author who fights.
The recorded words have reached the plains,
Distributed beyond the belief, like essences
Of the pen, beautiful findings of the playwrights
Or the melodious tune of the artist's talent,
Fixing a glaring eye on some witty youth
Who is a young man on the real journey of pride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem