So their moods
Rolled into two sheets
Chopped into two shapes
Quenching the hunger
Calling it back to order
Their meaty cover
High cos last rolling had aged
It was time for the play
For their heart rubbing
From the mind chants
To the match screams
Of unquenchable motion fire
Boosting their heart rubbing
Keying their moods mission
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem