I am arguing strongly over the pleasure,
This innate pain dissolves into the stomach
When your food has been consumed diligently.
The arguments are rarer when stories are told,
Food is an event of the mind and body,
Food remains tough as we grow old.
These worlds collide in measures and conditions,
The geometry of this life fades
And transgresses, due to the dungeon
Of warfare that happens on the mind
Due to food.
Inside the food circles are drinking plateaus
Formed from juices and other drinks,
These are rough like rage, after the event,
Telling me anything like loveliness.
Food is dinner on a plate, fixing me
With its stare, like a window of fortune,
Taller than the mountain with all the glory.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.