Howling may cease, their howls mean sense
To the doctoring few who have some to commence.
The shout has an animal on the brain,
More than the worth of an aeroplane.
It will fly and commence flight,
Much like a hesitation of the sight.
We interrogate the pilot for his intelligence,
Again, the man who flies thinks of distance.
The engines are like the fire of crying,
They have wept, the pilots, in the time of beautifying.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem