The light around a town is of the city and task,
Lights brighten the dusts and severe weather.
Look at the subjects, look at the wines of endeavour,
Their bleeding hearts are faster than the speed
Of rivers, forcing the lands and seas to comply.
Editing the views of a few men is like loving,
Escaping from the sorrows of sound means not
Anything that sounds from bursts and crowds.
Few people laugh, fewer still walk among giants,
Yet the letters of the word are sounds, utterances.
The light of red huge tasks combines with blood,
Forming rivers of milk, forcing the light of the whole sky.
Opening the war is like peaceful combat, offering
Light and its chance to investigate like the rays of light
From the sun and stars, surrounding the art of the land.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem