Hitmen are so good at the killing,
Our swords are no use to us,
Compared to the guns of hardship
Expressed by the opposing party.
Juices lie in the secret stomach,
A place in which we hide the murder,
Where devils and demons lurk
Forever, and ever.
There is no gun or dagger to tire life
In total!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem