Extrovert of sanity, excellent prince of design,
Your outgoing self relies on fevers and laughter.
One day you are ill, the next day a harvest
Has been gathered, collected so well by the men of revelry.
You enjoy society, now that deceased ones are many,
The telephone rings, keeping in touch is the hobby.
Mix and do proud, the prince is not wounded,
He hardens one’s heart when collecting and cultivating friendship.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem