One order calls unto the world,
from all and sundry in like-
and from varying tongues came in one likeliness.
For the mess of a generation
came those differences tearing apart
that with the immortals, the mortals contend not.
Unto the mortals, good intend.
But unto the fall they strive hard
becoming but a trash of folly.
Lost in delusional rationality,
you become so butchered that
not a piece of ur scraps could be gathered.
All over is littered the mess of like
as of a group of children called druming sound of the wedding feast but would not dance
And to sorrowful lullaby, would not mourn.
Burnt in lustful desire, driven by passion
a haste they make
that into the trash, discard that still voice.
Now an ode to morals is heard,
a tribute to ethics
and the songs of adieu to conscience sang.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem