They have the morals of dogs, courage of death,
The moral philosopher is subjected to a life.
It is mourning and more mourning, fully strategic,
Blessed by the ranks of the same decisions.
My inflated heart displays valour and suspense,
Causing others to instigate their results of stupidity.
We have freedom, we have joyous capitalism,
The same genre is enjoyed by the poets of ages.
Must the seed be sown after this night of nights?
The harvest is generous, like the infinite men and women.
The organised folk conceal what is in their hearts,
A rapping crew install a happy mode of many functions.
Listen to the hearts of the obstinate and authoritative,
It is their will and the free will of humans that dispossesses.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem