There is a fanatic clinging onto a madness...
As if no roof to a ceiling exists.
As if there is no attic through which hot air escapes.
This madness has been reached.
There is no wish for it to be replaced.
And those who have achieved it are pleased.
It seems to reflect,
A feeling of a rush that many have come to satiate.
There is a fanatic clinging onto a madness...
As if no roof to a ceiling exists.
As if there is no attic through which hot air escapes.
This madness has been reached.
There is no wish for it to be replaced.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem