Shake my hand, count the real
Romantic life for now I feel
A mate the old man and now you are
Yesterday I ran which from far
Temple dove against the hand
Fairly deal the moist land
My great trust no one can change;
I trust you high as long as range;
Bird trusts his wings so he never falls;
So, trust me too and you’ll never fail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem