A soldier controlled by his heart.
Had a bright sword to cut apart.
An author controlled by his mind.
Used pen with wisdom designed.
Soldier was a strong, hardy fighter.
E'er bullied the young, weak writer.
Lowly pen was no match for sword.
Inharmoniousness, always discord.
Firm soldier in winds admired trees.
Author liked grass in gust or breeze.
Tolerated intimidations with smiles.
Concealed his anger with guiles.
Mildly used poison day and night.
And sharpened pen's nib to fight.
One day pen broke sword in two.
And soldier's soul bid him adieu.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem