Life is about genius and stalemate,
Lining the membranes of your soul;
Men dive illiterately due to old age,
Their skin is a wax of considerable make,
Insular beings of the world are fitter.
Life is a dreaming man all in the year,
He is learned looking like a night,
The knights or justiciars scale the city,
And walls surround the time itself,
Like the life of the body and the mind.
An intelligent run of the heart concerns
The blood vessels of a ruined line,
Life is about a rock and a straw hat.
Mighty membranes die to the stick,
These wooden beasts are of the earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem