His heart, his endless soul
a flowering dove tree
tears and clouds cajole.
His soul an endless heart
a whirling dervish
arriving towards truth.
A centred spinning world
in ecstasy, white-gowned
divinely he-lived-on.
Where the truth does arrive
in creation, spiritual love
outpourings perfection.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem