For the man who will give it all away
as the pages burn in his head
For the willing and true people
as the old score pronounces them dead
I send my regards
for they have become an unchanging flow
Mountains will fall and buildings collapse
all is destined to perish in a storm we no not
all is true
in an untruthful
world
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem