You're the art of my life written all over me, I once held my future with both hands, unfortunately the same hands signed an inebriety contract, as I saturate in misery and the dead are out of reach.
Phenomenal you may be, I stand on the field surrounded by blossoms, hearing songs of freedom sung by birds, learning to differentiate the scents of fruits, and who am I to dwell on you?
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I would like to translate this poem