At the highways of woes
a traveller viewed the wind blows,
as he climb up a fearful trail
on top of a mountain or a hill.
He searched unbearable things
that he wouldn't want to know.
He longed for something unknown
that he wouldn't like to see.
He's cleaving for something unusual
that he wouldn't want to feel.
Now, all the things provided
as he searched on the unprovided!
What is it then that you see
in your naked eyes as it slips away?
What is it then that you feel
in your naked skin as it wards away?
Ah, the only way to a true friend
is the heart with gladness,
willingness to share what is it
treasured deep in his own senses!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem