A brazen sun glorified me as I spoke,
With diligent courts that suggested treason;
This cryptic world was a dozing man
With liars around and fences so swinging.
I want to chastise this man when prison
Arrives to solely occupy the premises.
Punishing him is punishing me,
For the fortnights and days go by.
A flimsy but strong affair has broken off,
With sturdy drawers to test the occasion,
Once we decide the actual avenue of thought.
Pleasure is at the hands of the priest
Who with the worst of beasts presides over us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem