The larceny is large for the dozen,
Vilify a fellow for the times and names.
Foretell from omens as the wind fingers,
You surround the heavenly plague.
Debar the fellowship, the frames of thought,
A surplus has existed, for all time.
The friends of a disorder work hard
To strive and command, like dozens of workers.
My chances numbered more for the thieves,
As far as the eye could gauge.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem