I cannot remember the grass between my toes,
Wanted some energy to be left to the place of my abode.
This religion fascinates me, and it is garden's delight,
Opening to the heavenly designed springs
And the remembrances of old and ancient
In this wonderful world.
I cannot conceive of a more special purpose
Than the reasoning of a mind that sways
In time with voices, that sing inside the head.
How ironic leaves float in this wilderness
Is how we are amazed by their lusts
And crafts of the indecent love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem