I am babyish with matters concerning the heart that is brave,
The mountaintop feeds on the whole world with a brave heart.
Pacific groups collect and master their facts with compromise,
But the fires and the powers restate what is whirled with a heart of bravery.
My stains are kept by the jolly and wicked, cleaner than many,
Letting hearts find their heads as well when curled with a brave old heart.
I must fetch the water from a well that speaks too boldly from above,
Losing the matters of acts and of the water swirled is a brave heart.
Let him read the farewell, and let him observe the distance,
My innocence is a protector from those scrolls unfurled with the brave heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem