Anyone capable of an apparent torture
Is a fortunate man of combinations;
His nice manhood encompasses the heavens,
Long white baskets are in the way,
Feeling their whereabouts like snowing falls.
Anyone with your mind can judge a punishment
In the meaning of corners that sharply learn,
The pungent smells are stained with blood of the whims
And wishes that entertain you whilst you sleep;
This sitting is a dying look on the fire of coals.
Before the knowledge of excitement,
A sentence has smelt like danger as the dying,
One comes away from the wick of candles.
The sentence is an enjoyment
From the intellectual nuclei so drawn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem