Joy is not the smile you see or the laughter in the air. It is not found in the birth of a child or the face of someone fair. Eyes do not see joy and ears do not hear. Nor hands that touch the skin of a virgin once in fear. Not taste or smell matches soft the true nature of joy. And in this night what quiet talk with eyes and see with thine ears. Feel with tongues and taste thine own fears. For the true nature of joy is bitter to the senses and seeing the screams, though hear the light; joy for not but dreams.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem