I heard the thunder in the forest,
All the way from my chamber,
Close enough I was from the matter and target,
What mattered was the ledge I showed.
Then they hauled him off,
After lightening struck on a stairwell;
I faced him as I kept my movements,
There was no more voice of manners.
Still I said my virtues, living out in the woods,
Hearing the circles of freakiness,
In a well my mind was a verbose philosophy,
A hacking strength of charismatic values.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem