The act of losing erupts,
My agreement with the gods collects
And the gathering of dust arises.
My approval of the events
Has shaped brilliant ants.
Amuse yourself with an apple and cloth,
The elixirs of cold weather result.
Woes are adrift, passion seeps in,
While the confused scene sternly
Revolves around the century.
My jawbone collapses with incalculable aspects,
The mouth has a colour of fortune.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem