Eclectic scabs of the misinformed mind...
Rot off the waylaid page.
How dwarfed seems the prymidialic abstinant thoughts
now more ancient than filtered ideas already scanned
and sensored by insolent doltic barbarians of illiterate
end...
Alas, sweet and soured ideas only remain on the man's menu
to inept receptiveness.
Like-fingernails dragged across black-boarded jungles of
no return, do uneducated lecturers fear for a hopeless
quiet night of unheard fear and tranquility.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem