Up on the mountain a confusion breeds,
Poising on the summit is coherence;
A rotund man confronts conjurors
Who confine him with a penance.
The imposters conjure and jeer to connections,
A congenial man is rotund and fabulous.
The congruence of his actions confused them,
Conjuring was feeling pride, but the summit?
The diet of acts grew daily at the top,
Feeding us with plenty, stamina was retold.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem