The hysterical, sniggering hyenas and
All their silly, superficial allies and friends
It seems, can never ever hope to understand
The profundities of philosophical ends.
They may dance on the graves of literate lions,
But they will never be lions. And anyway,
I'm not yet in my grave. I will leave them crying
In the end. Under a bright sun, I'll have my day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem