The challenger is the astrologer of facts,
He charges at your soul with lines of hate,
Challenging you with dodging thoughts,
Wary ways, badges of devastation, and always
The avenging is strong like the head aching.
Even he fried your brain with nervous issues,
A hedge was built to separate the lifestyle,
Ginger was ingested by the tongue to afflict
A man who would argue with the absence of garlic,
The challenger is not a machine of just upbringing.
One is injured and hurt, fraught with difficulties so
Inward and lame is your habit of the righteous men,
Kiss the shoulders of a proper man if he speaks
Against the challenger of thoughts that are in your
Possession. Keep to the integers of some sight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem