it is like the time of the junk,
looks like the nightmare,
which is pestering by day,
and at night from every angle
and at night copying everything
is trendy and in the price
as noisy behaviours
being blatant
terrible colours on cheeks
are not only, forestalling
whom for so making very much
would be liked who is who
for it with at least one and to fall
asleep in the middle of the
roadway where there is
a heavy traffic
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem