Cruelty has a shape too bold,
Where is my truth about the cold?
It is great tragedy to be callous
On the mighty and weak and the jolliness.
Cruel beginnings take shape on the day
We die, the effort is grander than you can say.
We flee death, and death comes near,
Frozen guilt gleams and does appear.
We are only cruel on the party
Who renders our difficulty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem