Always gold is the north on earth
It is a beautiful singing of sirens dressed in yellow
The misery is viewed from a distant balcony
When the poors are walking far away
The pleasure is a shelter
The purchase of peace came to the market
The cross in the shade of a half moon
Greet with fervour to the golden sparkle
The party remains open in its outward combat
My other self reluctantly is calling you
Because everything is bearable if I get a pay
The nostalgia is my crying above lost treasures.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem