Fire melts the wood,
Loathing the brilliant scene;
I speak for the populace,
And my meanings are attached.
Fire is from the belief of Hell.
Inside this shell is bone,
The shell is the body,
And we shall melt when forgiven,
Open those gates of the gardens
In a place remote, the eternal place.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem