I gained happiness!
I toiled!
I wasted away!
Finally I can lay my sore kneck on cool river bed,
and drink my pain away.
And yet, somthing is missing,
I have happiness!
But that isn't enough with this,
but why?
Why can't happiness be enough?
I lift my head of the river bank,
to notice a pestering wound on my arm.
It isn't enough,
and that,
that is the truth.
The truth is enough....
or is it?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem