The foes beat the
drum of prejudice,
the Deity will not let
it sound; if the Deity
lets it sound, they
will be the one to
dance to the rhythm.
The termite only aspires:
no termite can have
the stone pulverized.
Their malicious
thoughts have only become
our luck.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem