Surly rocks of Baudelaire
Sin is the test of saints
Catharsis shadows control
I let go in the river of olive gold
Consciousness travails in fire
Peace becomes an ideal
The world is not my temperance
Growth is no longer a social issue
You are the banner
You are my concern
Soon perfection shall shine
Be careful what you strive for
The world becomes distance
I have let it go
Let it go and travel home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem