Little is lost, but much to be found
a hope, a dream, tossed onto the ground
the red scarf or the waves of blue
little to come, little to lose
error is strife,
to those who face no fear
but those who give fear a face,
fear little here
call him by name
and he who was persistent
will submit to you
and he who was everlasting
will wither in your hand
and nevermore shall you call him fear
but you shall call her hope
and you shall revel in her light
calling her name in a boundless song of joy
gone is fear, the darkness of the night
alive is hope, the brightness of the light
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem