You keep smoking your problems,
Like some beast to burn, to learn.
Killing is an art too proud,
Hastening the arrival of death.
My astonishment happened everywhere
When starting a dangerous role.
The kill was being performed from nowhere,
Surprising us still with its meek manner,
Lunch is being served, with ferocity.
May the smoking be condemned
In hats and coats, inside the house as well.
This is the house of every death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem