He was untrained in combat due to his age,
Some formal training had been gathered;
Dazzling was the beauty of the moment,
A spark raised the question, forms of disbelief
Made the combat special, to be attainer
Was to be a relic of utter condemnation.
I combine the realities and rarities
To manage a dining room of thought-twists
That far into the future of our maids.
Beauty is a marriage with their heads,
For their hearts illuminate stretches of time
Forcing us to eliminate the exotic few.
Invisible rogues come untrained
From the marvellous creatures of storms.
I have included a realm of chaos
So fuel is the minor comparison.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem