There once was a man
Twisted and mad
A thing like reality
Was not what he had
So he sought out to kill
With his own hands
And when all good is through
Sin raises his hand
But the gun trembling it's wretched
For fate has put his tragedy
It's up to man to make its path
A slave to sin it was to be
A slave to man it lasts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem