From the gorgon to the man of steel, from the airs
Of musical reputation to exact solutions of commerce,
We see the seekers of ill-work, offering the men who
Hear the glaring notes of dementia one swift option.
It is melodious if you start looking in the direction of gold,
The moon is above, and the sun hastens in pride;
One sees ants beckon other ants and insects of fire and life,
Once the grasslands were like yellow hearts, a losing streak.
From the monsters of the deep, we feel fierce pressure,
Those with grey moons are silvery spoons and knives;
I have the plate, the drum, and the tropical medicine,
For the twilight arrives and it is melodious from the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem