To find the end without
beginning. The pebble did not want to
go to sea. I ask the lake why?
Where was the slaughter
house of green truths? Where are the
primroses? We will never find the seeds?
It is all fake, the brotherhood.
Were you drowning the ships loaded
with bodies of the polished nobodies.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem