It had become a plea for the eyes hidden,
Staying always in the twitch of the instant,
Keeping beneath the covers of this life.
Taking flesh off the wounded men is trivial,
Like their families they perish and surrender
To enlighten those with stories, offering some.
Thus it begins. The other mother and father
Retaliates so that summer and autumn will hail
The praises for the teasing minors and majors.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem