When there is grief- bleed then you must hide,
Thorns pierced on your bosom, never chide,
This will give you strength to move in wide,
Sittin' on a grief horse; enjoy, while you ride,
They try to weaken you; your will and voice,
Know this; take your own decision; the choice,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Exactly, this should be the approach if one is on correct path.