Some were false poor actors,
Laying on the lane of freedom;
Others betrayed the stage,
Forcing some to neglect the acts.
Then a solution of utterances
Pried into the ranks of soldiers
Who fought and brought their duties.
They acted out of the will
That defeated each object,
Smashing to pieces a fading door.
The theatrical forces swayed
And subdued the masses of
Simple people who withdrew.
Some were falsely accused of
Murder, others resented and spied
Due to their illness and
Knowledge, that preyed on us.
The acts coincided with curtains,
A spectacular day was afraid
Of the holy nights so well staged.
My mighty pen dissolves into
A hundred molecules, diving further
Into the world of playwriting.
I have to master the works of man,
That strive for the abolition of
My soul in stagnation, in sorrow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderfully expressed poem shared in this context.10