Now, the death of Jesus: I and others should fight for God.
It's a miracle, but close our eyes and breathe: body parts down to the eye.
It was night, when teachers come to know from birth on our roads.
However, hate can not eat; he can not force them to try.
New forms allow any sun to know. I fear teachers. But do not fear me.
Stop God and use a voice. Ready to talk about wolves, because we have guns.
A series of falling glass we see around us. Other pipelines and dreams of profit.
Perhaps a depreciation, for the murder of snow is full of fear.
Weapons? No knife to kill a wolf howling in front of Rome.
Blood will dance with your fingers, follow your fingers deep down.
He and I are a large Bowie knife through security, through the mirror I think.
I do not understand men in the basket, creating a problem.
I cry because I see things have changed: I threw away the sun.
Flash has won the way they should; the left fingers were burned in the blood.
Smile and say, we witnessed the suffering of my heart.
Discomfort and pain with a smile. And a quiet, elegant gentleman died.
This work was based on "Dracula" by Bram Stoker (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/345/345-h/345-h.htm), in particular Mina Harker’s Journal of 6 November. It was translated from English to Albanian to Greek to Ukrainian to Turkish to Simplified Chinese to Vietnamese to Romanian then back to English, courtesy of Google Translate (http://translate.google.com), before the resulting parts were reconstituted into the form shown above.