Horrible bizarre men are brought as fodder
To the pizza-parlour to exact a punishment,
For eating their pleasure is consuming distaste,
For the drink is essential on a form of travel.
Cadaverous men work undead, for the century;
Their punishment came from desires,
Since their fodder had contracted the spinning
Of games thinking their way into existence.
Nimble warriors arrive and admonish them,
Vanquished they leave and enter the gates
To be won over by them, and terror is the product
Of insanity now that the undead slaves carry buzzes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem