If humanity is oppressed;
It turns into a shiny sword.
For the broken heart;
It becomes a kind word.
For needy, hungry and poor;
It comes in form of grain.
For hapless it is mercy;
To relieve them from pain.
At times of utmost distress;
Shape of patience it takes.
Often forgiveness it becomes.
Hard iron into wax it makes.
It is a thick shady cloud;
Against the sun of desire.
In the darkness of night;
It turns into a blazing fire.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love to creator, love to Master love to lover a nice game indeed..