And murder wept its tears of regret,
Folly had a price for all its morbidity.
Finding gold was enough, enough for me,
Yet the silver in this train of thought asks.
My crimes are of the religious variety,
Walls are built for me to abstain from injury.
But the rich men weep further than the poor,
Lulling the noises of a day in deadly stupor.
My death is at the realm called Science,
It pours forth mysterious facts more than fiction.
I have no bleeding or remorse, just heaven knows,
And so I compare the world to this region in space.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Just heaven knows! With the ways of mankind on earth. Nice work.