A baby or adult stares at the air force,
Keeping books of bibles and baths;
We are fed by beds, bees arrive,
And birds be bottles of vice.
What angers await the diamond places?
There is commotion of hundreds,
Already a drill is based on the site.
Let drums be hazards in our realm,
Let the dung of camels happen every day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem