The burden is easy and the yoke is light,
When the enemy is deathless night.
How light the burden; being gently kind
And how pale that yoke, next a civilized mind-
A loving world worth countenancing,
More than pointless verbal prancing.
For what is gained by loss of trust
When our common end is always dust?
Make the moments of your life an altar;
And raise up your brother, that he not falter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem