One engages in the table manners,
These intend to supply ideas,
Proclaim troubles with food and drink,
And fight the scarce wastes.
My passage offers others a share
In the cosmos of fuel this time.
The nearby coxcomb caters for the public,
He is repulsed, he is for the monarch,
Who feels scruples and gestures
That flourish and blush, causing symptoms.
One way of intending a thing is to be read
By sad components, the straight fighters.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem