The way we die? Death is an obstacle,
Must it hurt to train the hunter or be hunted?
Bruises are daily, yearly, infinitely, like liars
Of the night that sparkle diamonds in the sky.
Starry, starry nights have zero characteristics,
The signals are electric, summoners of evil
Entice, like Adolf Hitler, who destroys.
It does not believe that the stars exist,
Our sun is merely a part of the imagination.
One heart is training its books of gold,
Once the tunnels open and the bleeding stops.
Nights near, their fragrance envelops, and
Evil trails behind, with powerful remains
And residues, the opposite of the heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem