An adage is decent when the mighty river winds,
And then the symbols are again clashing,
Lashing the rocks of a mighty river,
Feeling like a word of a bitten nature.
The adages pour forth into the chasms
And the whole black earth resounds in the heavens.
My adages are broken and bonded,
My beverage drinks itself like a bond.
Then the assembling of molecules connect,
This assemblage has worry for the ordained.
A bridge of blockage bends and bites for better,
Then adages are my anchor, a pivot of disaster,
The adages flow like fluent floors, not flaws.
The barons in the way are the mighty rivers of mud,
Falling away like a black earth or mass of planetary size.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem