In steel is a tragic element of tragic constants,
One sword is enough to obliterate the misery,
And one word obeys my statements to die.
In steel is the cosmos of the troubling crown,
Royal helpers submerge and arise along the
Ground of reckless wisdom, fulfilling wisdom.
In this steel of the sword is another metal,
Filling the eyes with rancid acid that glows
And glistens due to old age and ancient tales.
I see a stealthy wise man with a dextrous hand,
Finding piteous blows from his strangest laws,
Like the metallic ones who steal the show of oneness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem