O there are no guiding lights anymore.
There is only monotonous darkness.
There are no wise gurus or true sages.
Life's merely the lies of marketeers.
There is nothing that we can call sacred,
Now it seems the profane is glorified.
There's no trace of the radical in art.
It's all elaborate decoration.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem