Apollo ode
The protectors of those unfortunate brains
Tilt to the wrong side,
I have worked hard to create many works.
And little or no meaning;
Ah, why, because the oceans, rivers and streams,
Irrigate all countries,
Salute to your glory,
In the constant exhalation,
Why, bending down from noon,
Too greedy,
Apollo, did you steal it?
A drop of ink from the poet?
Rising in the invisible air,
It's floating with a steam,
Through dense and sparse areas,
Blown away by all the blowing winds;
Maybe it's doomed before summer flies,
Plus millions of people,
Form an aperture in the air,
Although it used to be dark and dirty.
Hehe drop! And be happy.
Except the happiest people,
After all that passed through my pen,
Forgotten so quickly!
Phobos, if this is your design,
Put it on your bow,
Give wisdom and let the rest shine.
The following is equally elegant.
I hope it will help the landlord.