And the laughing gas frozen at sight,
Those winces are fully demanding,
Imagination fends for itself in everlasting bliss.
For the gases combine and connect,
Playing the game of thumbs, a lesser shadow
From the floating charity,
The running of commands from comparison.
Farewell to lads of the whole lasses,
Flee and overshadow them afterwards,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem