Fathers are the sacred men of this generated world,
Feeding the proper virtues with their awesome zeal;
Loathing the compartments of ultimate reasoning,
The devils become strongly evil in their playing.
A spreading joy envelops the gathering of crowds,
Fathers win their children after the fighting and sitting.
A little platter of crabs and apples would be motherly
For the rest of the community, this community of windows.
Fatter and mathematical are the men of the world,
Women simply reply to the questions offered to them.
This joy has entered the spoiling region called war,
Peace ensues unerringly, like the sessions of criminality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poem deals very rationally with the dilemma faced by the present day man. Nice poem.