Sly thinking relieves some,
Let this corsair be empty of sin;
Emergencies embroil me with sin,
Arranging my furtive abilities.
A libellous affair has been ruined
By the one calamitous occasion.
Inside the inappropriate war,
There resides a warrior of commotion.
He is ill-fated, a monastery encases him
After the attacks of the war.
Sly thoughts have achieved this
As the clandestine war is at an end.
An irregular battle is called war
When the sins are barging in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem