My name is openly blackened due to age,
Inside I see angels and among other beings
I perceive areas of knowledge, acres of land.
This is worthy for mansions, this land they grow
Is aging and faster the grass burgeons like blood
Racing through the human body in a whole age.
My manliness judges a buttery bread, a mansion,
All in the happiness of your home, the same man
That was built in a week, every week and each year.
I see angelic offspring as I weep, I weep due to angels
And men and women who dissolved before my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem