Towards the greatest miracle one has a shoulder,
Where is there a conquest from the fallen ground?
This avalanche is but a solution of the oddest wars,
Underneath the seas of bliss ride the waves touching us.
It is land, it is land that blows the iron hands with gusts,
These hands are grand helpers of the inner state.
I follow the mad poets of a forgotten land,
Best men are even deadlier than the sword.
Towards the ground we fetch the lightning,
As thunder strokes the pen that delivers a wonder.
One felt the emotions of a day that betook trouble -
From their jailers that became jailed themselves.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem