Air constricts the valley of shields,
This again makes us suffer almost to waste;
Angles justify the other sides of the valley,
To me it can be an awakening.
All of the attempts fail once they believe,
They believe on almost any foundation.
The schools of endeavour have discovered
Like Columbus and the currents of the sea.
Air in this shelter gathers rust like an iron rod,
Grave piece of thought, grave all of the time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem