In the world are verses after verses
That revolve around a tree called Pain.
This tree burdens the young folk,
With brotherly pains, with corrections.
My life is a gorge of the ultimate strength,
Wide as mouths upturned in song.
The tongue of discourse is upon the wild
Habitats, a future folk are against all hope.
In the world are sensible lawyers,
Like the aborigines in that ruling land,
Like the huntsmen of the ruling forest,
Like the rivers of the Amazon and Nile.
Our juice is fought with code called Basic,
It is the computer that forces its price,
Beginning is of the beginner,
And so machines begin to outwit intellects,
And so the wide, wild world of worry
Engages with Fighter Pilots stricken
With clouds of snow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem