I hate all of this.
You show me
what I never knew, never understood.
Tell me,
should one cut down a mighty tree
for the fleeting wind?
My knowledge is a firm tree by a stream
that is strong, trusted and complete.
My heart, however,
has challenged my tree
with such strength
I cry over the choice.
Emotion, even love, is only a fleeting thing
like the wind, like the rain,
and I am drenched and cold.
I must choose sense or love.
Family, God, wisdom,
or my soul in another body.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem