Going to God is like the heavenly angels,
Looking at them detracts you from evil;
When you dance among the clouds
Your shaking limbs carry fever as you climb
The very heights of the sky, the actual canopy.
Below the rooftop is other land,
On it you breath and talk and walk
Like anybody with sense, with very nature.
Going to a godly man is full of achievement,
Inside you they sting with learning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem