To be is forced on everything this day,
Those questions come when work is done, and now;
The beauty of this page is anyhow
What life is brought for those who are a way.
Then force the most from artists anyway,
Keep stealing from the money I allow,
To monsters keep exciting and avow
That this today is formal to display.
What pleasure is that kept us working here,
The super pride is pleasant to the taste,
Food tasted fine, now there were debts for us.
When fun is gotten our disease appear,
To jump is not to laugh, nor please the chaste,
Will grace return to mend this whole crisis?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem