The aims shudder for the playing,
Real values are hidden for us;
Yes, the guesses of the sportsman
Act like themselves, fulfilling and snapping.
Must we dread the joy to come?
Guiding a long passage to the rivers
Of real water is a pleasure to be admired.
To guide them in this is my own work,
State the oblivion afterwards.
Say the reasons of enjoyment,
Say them now, or hold your peace,
When sorrow is adjusting for you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem