Bide your time, suffer the blows
Everything that is meant to, will come to be
The bud will open and become the rose
The river will flow patiently to the sea;
Although dark night creeps in with stealth
And the morning seems a lifetime away
The rising sun will bring it's wealth
And you will see the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem