You are new to my shoulders,
Underneath the facilities of time;
My time is at an end of some trouble,
This end falls slowly to ruin.
My jumping and jolting is finer
Than the odd leap or lunge,
Finer than the train of fastness,
As I climb on the shoulders of a
Wagon that perpetrates a crime.
My sentences are dim, they persuade me
To enter the allegiance of my twin;
He acts faster than the dim lights
Crossing my dark mind,
I gather the news of a fault in lines,
I am a goat of brilliance following
The orders of my chief.
We all grunt and call for the superiors,
Leaping is the hobby of even a giant.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem