In this realm, who is it you become?
The saddling of the sun.
The capturing of the fiery star.
Hells bars.
Do they forever hold in the moving of chains?
Locked against molten rock.
How can that be, when it flows?
Which way is it going?
No destination, just a constant rush.
Motives abandoned.
Purpose withstanding.
Is there any name in which we can be branding?
This is a devious imprisonment.
One where your desire to be free exist endlessly.
But with no direction, and a circling fortunes.
You are led each time back to where you started.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem