All those butterflies flutter on the stomachs,
Change into the moths to hatch the silk worms,
The young and old of this beautiful world,
Have had the silk shawl to wrap on their shoulders,
Multiple colors and the perfect designers hand work,
Eye catching attractiveness, drooling at one another,
The airy spirit, come out from the compressed bottles,
What a place it is! Everyone in trance as they sleep,
Sleep is the only process where all things are treated equal,
If at all sound sleep is attainable, a few blabber the truth,
Not knowing the confession confessed and heard,
Clothed in the drunken mode, hearts can be broke..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem