My art creates a vacuum of displeasure,
Frontal art attacks consider me fine,
And the monuments are designed to confront.
My artists compose then register,
Frequent strokes comprise us, as
The laws of the generations speak.
My artistic endeavours roll forward
Downhill, as escape is the master of this
Radical class called the bricklayers of life.
My arts create tension and stolen forces,
My acts cherish the vitality of the nation,
For these actions are like words of meanings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem