A baby -brinkmanship
Open the opals are stones that grind
Truths on tops will laws are rings
Boxes on broads will loss on width
Heads are hints to options
Mother s laws are not massive norms
Master s tag the mass in courses
Child with chalks has words to put
Stand on smiles have songs of lucks
Cog in corns will sad for truths
Fall between the stools not up
Codes in coins can choose two ways
Fates with fames where matrix lay
Fatal falls are guys to tanks
Twists are terms to march our fates
Draw up dances on polished stages
Polls are dots that sum up laws
Play the dumps not pass the drums
Press the papers jigged our mouths
Moths are move and sleep and fly
Fires from flies are glow with spots
Bright and brisk are kings of God
Cog on corns will sad for truths
Bring up spins our worlds have turns
Rinds are ranges not forces in bones
Hearts are hard to take in bonds
Holders show up home to buy
Buy off benches of laws in busy
Posts on punches are laws for polls
Poems on points with codes in pomp
Cogs in corns and draws on globes
Brink with ranks when laws are loaded
Beg on buns are forms for some
Bundles put in banks of loves
Hatred grow as hays in wild
What on air are bad for wields
Wheels of wits are loss to wheels.
Guns and wheels are tanks in hell.
Fires are fingers tips of devils.
Thinking gets things supporting evils.
Burning jades are buried for just
June of Arc has arm to judge
Come to coins with faces that shine
Worry about worst for thinking things
--Poem on politics and lives by Cheung Shun Sang=Cauchy3--
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem