The summer sun blew change on our hearts
As it shone on the masses and the fields;
The breeding began when there was no change,
Then we had clothing from the moon,
The moon had just begun its course of travel
As it misses the planets as they run.
Open to the mistake we found afterwards,
When the moon commanded men of wine,
They hail and prevent a tale to be told.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem