Pull the skin as a beauty forming grim,
Baths tore apart the skin of a forelimb.
Though labours battle to damn the concert,
Something collects where he lay with discomfort.
Skin is the work of a life to connect,
Controversial agony is to correct;
The currents to greatly wear are spotted,
This skinned animal I saw was guarded.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem