The appearance was calm like committing of heads
In youthful triumph, this cruel rage had abated
After the thousands of mighty warriors were put down.
The crime of scribes was promised by the last ones,
Possessing the life of capillaries, as the dress of buttons
Created other buttons so wonderful and sad.
The calm natures of the balms were inside the body,
Polite and excitable, in ways of the hundreds of degrees.
My apparent joy was compressed with just followers,
Offering tubules of the heart the chance to bear fruit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem