A son has destroyed me for being father,
Offering standing satan a reply for courage;
His eyes keep me in the redness of chairs,
I sit in them for fear of darkness descending.
A son enraptured by slavery has all faults,
His deeming collapses and his scheming fulfils
Itself after so many triumphs of the trumpet.
The sons of this world regulate a chain of steel,
Strong parenting has been the mockery.
I saw a son in the mirror for fear of death,
Instead of images to forsake, I have them for decisions
About my future activity, future activity is supreme.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem