To fight with the arms carried new meaning,
Are there any fires to extinguish? Or is there fire?
My hands are alert with gears so spied upon,
Ointment is causing some pleasant news.
The factory inside matters, to those who monster,
They lighten the load to them offered,
As fire upon hazardous fire is unleashed.
Adventure in the morning and evening
For the spies to empty our pockets of learning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem