I have anger and a dozen times I cried from it,
The angry men of this world go hungry from knowledge.
They have to know why questions are asked
And that when little men laugh they are ordered to.
Then the knowing strength has been displayed
Like the dozen animals of the year, the highly regarded.
Then anger is a fellowship with hate, forming formulae
Of the way we work and behave along the way.
The paths we tread are meandering as we mature,
But young music astounds the night as it nears.
Vanish, match the music and astound with laughter
So that the whole ballroom starts to clap, and to clap.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem