My rest deserves peace, justice rolls
In the shadows for the heat of heaven.
Sun’s work is a doing, moons belong,
But where does the camel roll over?
My place in the arena of thought
Is fought over by the generals of a tent
That houses the rich, the tent we hand over.
Palaces will be built for those who worship
In the competent ways known to God,
A man visits the world in possessed spirits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem