Diligence created me of latter days,
Years of changeless time were always.
Gods fed the spirit of our liking,
Keeping hatred and antagonism but coping.
Bad luck and disintegrated food
Cured our ills like fortune too argued.
We have attitude, and the altitude of ghouls,
Fancy why they skilfully become fuels
For the fire and menace, the fences
Are like walls and the flame flourishes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem