In this room of cold air I stand,
Living a life that others condone,
But some revolve around like an orbit
Of strong help, bonds are not to be broken.
The atoms of my body are like
The grains of sand in a desert of hotness,
A wind may change it, a sun may scent it,
And it is in a very livid way.
Are we to be trees of the forest?
We must be their height, we must be
Their weight in doing, and our highness
Is not to be matched by animals
On the ground of plantations.
In this room I have stood the tests,
In this way my way is livid and high,
Like the honest horizon, and the sunny
Stay of a star shining brightly in the rain.
In this room we conquer the love and hate
Raging in our forests, for we live under anything
That reigns like a king or queen
On their thrones of brightness, piercing the heart
With feelings of doors going to God.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem