Souls in march for peace,
Sought the abstract to seize.
Stooped they came in failure,
Stoic minds that of a collier.
Glimmered the light of day,
Goodbye to dark they say.
Greased attire do they remove,
Grin of happiness to approve.
Pain of day to perceive,
Petal of mirth not to receive.
Joy for woe to barter,
None to be found by sorter.
Retreat the paths to mine,
Not to find merry sign.
Rayless cavern than in mind,
Better to sad ghoul behind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem