Who is going to commiserate with our words!
With its flagpole after them lusts
the lie of power's wantonness.
Its quiver's arrows?
Words' equations, simulations untenable,
exiles in the desert of silence,
fancy fashionable clothing camouflage
to beguile and mislead gullibles,
for each case blurry masks.
And if words stubbornly resist to succumb
and protest in their ton familiar,
reptile the vilification for baptism them drags
in the muddy waters of rain acid.
How could faithful followers' lips
read hymns in another trope, in other tone,
how could victims escape from frame-up
amid weirdspeaking phantoms of pretense?
Without the virginity of the words
how to restore your vision's plans?
Against their double ambiguous countenance
their shimmering and dazzling masks,
you can not array unfashionable contrivance
or loudspeakers already fornicated trust!
May it be a pity but
without uncorrupted, untouched in virginity words
you can not crafty οr innocent intents discern.
Lo! Nobis opus sanctum id est:
Purification to the words' brothels.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem