One enjoys the soul as a relief,
Opening goodness for confusion;
This day my loves are numberless,
This soul of mine outnumbers the Hell,
For in my body lies a soul of correctness.
This crime I deplore bespoke of the eccentricity;
This craziness spends money.
I have pleasure in the utility of freedom,
My wealth abundantly destroys the food
Inside the human mouth, as I struggle towards desire.
This soul has delved into corners of time,
But this food creates me instead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem