The zeal of perception is vaster than the lake of peace,
Forces gain the hands of collective might, to overthrow their tin.
The tin connects to wires of metallic flesh,
And electric help fires at the roofs of decorations.
What is the celebration now that you survive?
The survival of the worst sinners pervades as youth,
The growth of their bones manages my uproar.
A young man and frolicsome children adore the folly
Of a station of law, that law that counts beyond the books.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem