This is inferno. It has let loose all the horrors.
We created it and loved or hated it.
We dreamed of a heaven or a place where
the sun in the day and the moon at night would shine equally.,
We didn't want to be under the same umbrella, but each with our own,
each shadow bright and distinct. Pulse perfect and
throbbing.
But all went wrong, and time is now running counter clockwise.
We are in a mad race, collecting sandalwoods,
flames, and fireballs,
a deathless rebirth. This is hell,
inferno.
All the demons are free
all the serpents.
Evil the curator,
good the worst.
And shards of bitterness pouring in.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem