Promises are ment to be broken,
What is ment, is never kept.
Why do pepole, do such things, show dreamn then burry to depth.
for a man may be, bent with fruits
but also remember, hangs also root.
How heard he may bend, but he'll never
touch his roots;
For high, high lie, lie his shoots.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem