Lies are moth-like. What are rubbed
In twilight's vicinity.
They are what skulk, in shielding
Their coarse-winged iniquity.
Noon-skipped in their dragonfly's
Seen through of a fair motive
Truths have found these abhorrent.
A deviance; allusive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem