Scurrilous talk of your nation creates absurd consequences,
In this sedulous statement is banished the humours of God.
My fruit evades my creation of the history, that banishes
The lords and ladies, the profound thinkers of fraud.
I have talk, I have grace and all it encapsulates,
The real religion created me more than my trees and plants;
I am the one who accuses and avoids scurrilous talk that accumulates,
Much like the aliens who deprive me of gold and grants.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem