Swollen tongue frothy rot,
half-truth speaks yet is not..
It's full of turmoil, maggot frot...
Drooling mouth and bloodshot eyes..
Calling forth red winged flies..
Devour it's cocoon under white hot Moon.
Bring forth Righteous Merit.
For death and despair, is not yours to share it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem