A knowledge is factually correct inside,
Yet outside I find deceit and unwillingness
To craft but a hitch, a melody of supreme count,
I have remedied the jungles and forests with it,
The caves are even speaking,
What is more than this?
Why have I been roasted and now knowing when?
Which idiot kicked me in the other day
Only to let me see squarely through his eyes
A rapid and ugly beast a knowledge such as this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem