Fool-hardy sail in dark weathers, reckless rail in bad weathers.
Engorge, filled with blood with pains and no help either.
Acceleration in which your deadly life depends.
Realism of a living dead.
For that thing you always dread,
Entombing the courage in you, fear.
And for that fear, you live and grow.
Reminiscent of those ancient act that keeps you old.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem