How many men are against us when we are ill?
Illness desires you as a last resort, when ill.
The magnificent and the abhorrent ailments
Need both cures, again and again in the hospital.
The hospital is for doctors who care,
And the nurses are fearful of you.
Patients need patience to adore the health
Of a nation in pity for their condition.
The pities are seldom seen in youth
As they are in public or private.
May the men who are against us be quiet
Now that illness is the past.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem