The headlong foolish intellect from reason's tunnel,
Spreads the poisonous cancer's germs,
The star-world, the parliament and corporate,
Flag the hell of slaughters' farm
The rustic-proletariat, and waged hands,
With simple faith carry the tenor of God's glory,
They care little of the profit perverted stories
Yet, like nature's call the can't avoid vote,
Knowing, chaffy grains on the surface ever float.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem