Making any sense yet? No? 'Kay, let's try looking at it written out in a more conventional script:
ninagreqesetfùxzavihxda!otoks syhnfos tiàpakúvezda!dot
ciriàkasêfuszyhnvihxzbabda!ateqs àfos tioỳkyk myliùadobáot
ỳqykentaphriáke! egrexezeibadêhcòhxdoul mylàcupniàsyssysap
cirivz ỳkelcitaqoksiéfoxhnest fylivz ésefliỳfopehnit
Not working, huh. How about if I add some sound info to them there letters:
... that's IPA letters up above; they tell you how to say things rather than pretending to tell you like those delinquent latin letters.
By this point you should be able to read out the poem and admire the sounds - though given that this is the first 'poem' I've written in the language it's probably not what the native speakers would consider to be sonically pleasing.
But in case you're after some more visual information, how about we look at the poem through the lens of a different script:
Sure is pretty, huh? There's some form coming through now. See how there's an equal number of columns in the first three lines? That's a common technique for some flavours of Akat poetry - ruined in this instance by the last line only being eight and a half columns wide.
Is it a poem for you yet?
'Kay, here's a translation of the poem. It is, like all translations, a bit of a dog's dinner - to make it seem more 'poetic' in English, I've had to sacrifice some of the poetry in the original:
like the hawk lifts a rat from the wheat;
you loosen your hair, let it flutter
in the moon's breeze - a nest
for faces: two bleached eggs.
... and anyways, I never claimed it was a good poem ...