The bigger the house, the smaller the occupants. The same goes for the devil: in huts, he used to oust the inhabitants, while in skyscrapers he can humble himself into a snuff-box.
The devil gradually loses prestige. His dung, however, still ornaments the fields. They send students to investigate this red clay. They hope it contains plenty of pseudoaluminium, the raw material of super-high-speed bombers and portrait frames.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem