Along which grinding road of life
Slow, gradual as what each day's
Patient putting up with allows
What can and must be believed
Which goal towards, towards a good
Is its momentum perceived.
Above that barren and sad hearts'
Moment to moment world-view
As there above which deserts, swamps
By your guardian spirit.
Who all at once, one gaze within
Winging grasps the truth of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem