We pixelated with panic at being
Down to our last epic comment
In the supposedly open picnic.
Being our same solipsistic selves,
We understood the trick emotion
Of the cleric, more generally of
Those belonging to the clique.
If we seem Delphic vis à vis them,
At every click of the dial, we rage
In colors-panoramic before recess.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem