wrap in golden coated and commonly
shown in every occasion, but rarely be
touched by any men, for each piece belong
to somebody whom everybody knows
praise comes in any direction, that day
remembered only the night not on the value
of feasting; neither the star shine nor off,
the morning becomes the day to die for honor
high esteem of courage live again to the
pedestal of dominion believing that all has
to vow before the Lord thy God, yet coated
with pride and greed the rain comes earlier
than tomorrow
wisdom reshuffle for power, wasting
the time with collision, forgetting that still
the branches has to hatch the egg, blinded
with faith drunk with prestige and honor
settle me down Lord and hit me with pain
for suffering is a feast to remember that I
am just only a man...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem