I struck him on the left shoulder,
By the ships of the night and day
He left, entertaining the misers
So that gold was a dream of dining.
I struck the lords of the sandy beaches,
With frustration that lasted like gold.
In this wisdom of the world that schools
Men in justice and politics,
I have a right to the splendour of the wits.
I struck her on the left eye,
Gashing the cheeks with boasts
Of luck and harm and charm.
This fool was a minor duel,
During the times of a sentence.
Lists of bad hearts abandoned the front,
Their toil was a waste of goals.
Butchery happened on the horizon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem