I gain the stories of time with a river of lines,
They strut and glimmer after a yawn and laugh,
This hate inside condemns no other than me,
You must hurt one day, you are your pain.
May we stay forever this way, might we dare?
Towards the idyllic surroundings that encapsulate me
Please stir, and reckon the jaundice of our youth.
I guess that questions are for the resisting,
That many ploys and plots have been conceived,
But one must do some perfume with the old
That stands to the test of this whole time.
My supermen are my super humanity,
Thwarted by the majority of inhabitants.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem