Soft feelings are surprising when the hardness,
Heaven feeds us while we sleep, the creeping up.
When do special dreams enter the world of sleep?
Some of us sleep, then dine in our thoughts
About sleep too obscure. The slant appears
To be excelling the sleep. When is there peace?
Softer hurt awakens us from sleep,
The hurt or small pain is itself suffering.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem