Pretentious, hedonistic hopefuls,
think of what we would be
if you had it your way.
Unable to immerse ourselves
in the distress that stalks us.
Incapable to contemplate the troubles
which have torn away our pride.
It's all so beautiful, isn't it,
this oblivion uncovered?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem