Our success is more pursuit for pleasure,
Their fortune has been beheld by the ones;
The cooks are of the satanic pillars
Loathing a test from up above, the deity is shown.
One finds the taste of the mouth in us,
Opening entrances to the ones who count us.
A sky is hidden and shown by its cracks and fissures,
The knowledge is a finding and cost
Of the soul and measurement is paramount.
One cooked one day and for every day
That a man and woman is found apart.
The realest success happens in our mind,
One of us is certain of the truest heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem