Have you read them? He asked.
No, not yet.
When would you then? He encountered.
Perhaps, never.
Why so? He went curious.
I'm still unfound.
Then why don't you read them? He sounded dominant.
I would be corrupted.
You're a dead beat! He fixed it.
Yeah, my death is my depth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem