I stand up to listen to your words,
So let everyone listen to your words,
For words glisten like worlds in ice and fire.
I hasten my acts like a pleased minor friend,
Burden has polished my shoes, without souls,
Without souls to mash in excitation, in loveliness.
It is your pleasure to justify the acts of a saint,
My soul offends the demon, so return to the clouds,
And sting with your tail, like an auspicious scorpion.
My awe is your awe, justifying my presence, like a victim,
Like a faster swimmer, little by little swimming in falsity,
Opening the doors to collisions and elastic decisions.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem