Fading into insignificance is a trouble,
We support the love of humans in some fuel;
Yesterday, the lice of evil nature crept on the floor,
With fading significance, without full beauty
But with ugly spirit, a likeable life for some,
A hazard some existence for others
Who gain toil from this, and hard work.
Hasn’t the life of poverty been addressed by some?
Their riches of the ground are like the mouse
That makes sound on the building of noise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem