Rhapsodic men could hear the succulent activity
Inside of them, their women sought for them nightly,
Inside the homes of a hundred years and one.
Symphonies could be acting and singing their way
To the top of the ladder, to the top of humanity.
The talismans they wore affected me afterwards,
For magic strained into gold, and magic items
Were produced of incredible quality and place.
The sonorous alarm outside was a weight
On the shoulders of the masses, who were crowds
Of men and women in unison and harmony.
Tranquillity entered the minds of many who fled,
Those flocking were hurt by the medical and surgical teams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem