What it is in my heart, if ask you, I shall say to you,
What it passes over it,
How the scars and healed wounds of it!
I have borne many a thing just for humanity sake,
I have seen and undergone,
I have borne all that silently!
If I cannot create, why to destroy,
If there are flowers in your garden,
Why to desert it?
What it passes over my heart, I myself know it,
My pains mine,
As have felt them so.
Everything one cannot get it all,
Something needs to be borne.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem