It is
Setting fire to a house
Where I am not staying.
It is
Scraping the bark
Off a tree.with leaves.
It is
remitting fine while
Introducing a new book.
It is holding out
Hope to somebody while
Calling down curses to another.
O my dear, go not always with it
You are there to miss yourself.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem