Foil is like a herb of metallic strength,
It cries like a butter of oil with food,
As tears of the cry, as tears of the cry.
Foil is a tin, and small are causes that
Decide a tiny whim, a silent crying -
Food is believable, food has contentment.
Foil has many strokes of heat,
On the tearing action I agree to be soft,
So authors please listen to the weaning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Somehing has been lost in translation I fear.