To be gentlemen is an ideal worthy of the game,
So lady after lady carries the emblem of good taste;
To be this good gentleman is working too many days,
They describe the features so eloquently these days.
My laughing crew are in corridors of different hues,
Chambers of hurlers and shooters of words collect
Their passages, good wells of water accumulate,
In the very eyes, so offended by the falling men.
I have to see a picture of the world in some odd part
Convincing my substance of the beckoning winds.
They use the state of this health to make me defender,
As the work of the sacred helpers will be sacrificed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem