One determines the best in the best of life,
But he forged the iron daggers with skill,
Fixing a biological creation in hellish pain,
Little ghosts became paranormal with ease,
So hardship caused us to die and revel
But not rebel like the ghouls and goblins too grim.
By the logical enterprise we do design in patches,
There stares a wild golem of the highest tower.
Scrolls of design run on the piles of worry,
Clasping by the arm a sustainable hurry.
One is determined by the echoes of the world
Inside this reality of the day and night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem