Harrowing heights besiege the misty mind,
A towering life is upon me and my lines of desire.
The fuel of this helicopter is my own, it is my own,
Then finally my performance is older than him.
To have been the boast to boost my soul to the next one is
Selling the mighty weapon just about to explode
Into smartly sized particles.
My ashes enable me to conduct a future of destruction,
That tower succumbed to me afterwards
Just like the mountain of trust and caves,
This cave is my grave of wonderful meaning.
This is rest for some, lawful for most
And acquired by everyone in the career of living.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem