The day stands around a body of the apparatus,
Laughter has been sung, holding the jars of love.
Lacking skill, asking, saying, and staying are the losers,
This day decides a denigrated man of knowledge.
From the table of the love and hate cycle,
We have not the jars of wrongdoing and the cold vases.
When we meet princes from another land,
What do we see in their self-respect and knowledge?
The day has been beer, soda and lime juice,
Our nights keep the seafood of lobsters and crabs cautious.
Feel the blood tingling, the blue bulk of the opulent ocean
Has spluttered onto shores of the milky and muddy sides.
We are wearing white frocks and coats of a black kind,
Types of tyres screech in the roadways of a distant past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem