Your face reflects upon these compact chambers-
Smiling and sincere-in fun, frolics
With bosom companies, schedules, lectures
Under the sun, unconscious world- yet to grip!
Up and above marvels! With an iron will-
You ride this wave, rare in the dawn-
And unwavering zeal, across cramped corners pass-
Appear! Light with moist accounts, yearn!
And remedy, is this delight with spirit-
Pride- for the pain of carrying this script-
Under the shady gale of afternoon-
Far off the ranges, above my head-drift!
Joy! Bound with no burden of lie-
Upon my vision to hide from those chambers-
That plays across a wide laughter,
When I am downstairs -smiles, stares!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem