O, spite thee, with a vengeance
worthy of attention, a bullet to your
design,
Spare thy measured incompetence
and pin your illusive hopes on
mine.
You thwarted my attempts, to
reconcile the differences we have
sewn,
And now the hostility that favors
my reason, even God does not
condone,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem