A dullard fuels my coffin and everything,
Palatial winds solidify as they swiftly pass;
It is paramount key to knowledge, the wisdom
Of all that sustains the shreds of evidence.
The grave is fought over by the dying and weak,
Counter to the blessings of the happier sort.
They emulsify to speak, in their homestead
Where happiness begins and ceases forever.
A jester may appear to cure the mastership
I gain, and receive to expel the deaths.
Metres of yearning curse the years, they unwind
In the hills of yearning and years.
A coffin is subdued by the threats and bouts
Opened by the livers of death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem