Inside the prison of woe glows a sculpture,
Its only sounds are the chink-chink of keys,
A glowing man is of the foundations and soul,
The glowing man perishes inside the very hour.
I see a dead corpse from the barred windows,
Fitting poorly into view, knowing more than me;
Rotting, spitting, and being secret, the ape has
Been barred from entering the world of normality.
I have to contemplate my dream of young desire,
A cadaver is positioned in the past and pain;
One poor part is to cast the wells of knowledge,
Water from them is superior to the ageing process.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem