I want a flower born
Blooming inside the lap of thorns.
Without the fear of the winter wind,
I walked on the ice berg in search of that kind.
I ran on the path of fire
Without ever knowing what I'm going to hire.
I walk this down mountain,
Without the thought of my loss or gain.
With beams of loads on my sack,
I'll never turn in back.
You are my destiny,
No more, I only want to see.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem